


高慢と偏見|Kouman to Henken

by Mochiluver



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pride and Prejudice Fusion, F/F, Mystery, Pride and Prejudice References, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 05:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14909666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochiluver/pseuds/Mochiluver
Summary: “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”A party at Hotel New Kamata resulted in Dr. Tachibana Wato meeting Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department’s freelancer Miss Sherlock. In less than five minutes, civility and conversations immediately went downhill.AMiss Sherlockfanfiction loosely based onPride and Prejudice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired from nerdvi's post: (im)patiently waits for a Pride and Prejudice Miss Sherlock AU.

Society still clung to the modus operandi that every single woman must have a husband for economic stability and a family to raise. The truth of such statement was an incredible foil to reality. Fewer marriages, low birth rates, economic hardships, and divorces were now pervasive to the younger generation. Creating a conventional family was slowly becoming impossible, let alone sustaining it.

***

“Tachibana-kun, how are you feeling?” Dr. Mizuno asked over breakfast on her first day back in Japan. Wato had no doubt there were dark circles under her eyes. She knew her overall appearance was horrendous: lack of adequate sleep, messy hair, crumpled clothes, and stench from being cooped in a jet for over eleven hours. “Fine sensei,” she answered meekly. Even though she felt like crap, there was no way she would be crass with her mentor. After all, he sent her nineteen letters when she was in Syria and even picked her up at the Narita International Airport.

Both mentor and student were eating a traditional meal at one of Dr. Mizuno’s favorite eateries. The quietness and low lighting provided a homely sight that Wato welcomed. The doctor shared stories of his step-daughter and student shenanigans at the hospital. While he spoke, Wato opted to eat more in hopes of avoiding the chance to speak about Syria.

At her second bowl of miso soup, her mentor recounted a mystery the media dubbed as Sachiko’s Mustache. It started with a young man running away from the Gables Museum of Arts after drawing a mustache on Kishida Saneatsu’s _Sachiko_. In the midst of escaping, the culprit received a concussion from a truck and was transferred to the hospital where Dr. Mizuno worked. The surgeon and his students were responsible for providing medical attention to the young man. Her interest grew when the graffiti ruse was linked to a homicide disguised as a suicide and the scheme itself was a selfish attempt to steal a Stradivarius frame that enclosed the painting. After arrests were made and the frame reattached to the portrait, _Sachiko_ was displayed at the museum again. This time, the owner was working with the security team to prevent another defacement incident.

“Maibara-san, the art owner, decided to hold a small gathering as thanks for those involved in solving the mystery,” Dr. Mizuno concluded. “It will be held tomorrow night at Hotel New Kamata.”

“That’s a nice gesture,” Wato remarked. The thought of her mentor being appreciated made her smile. Although his role may have been small in overall picture, there was no doubt that he contributed a clue for the investigators.

“I would like you to accompany me.”

“Eh?” Her eyes widen and her mouth formed a perfect o.

“Forgive me for being too forward, but I think this will be a great chance to meet new faces.” He paused after glancing at Wato’s expression. “It will also be a school night for Airi and Akiko has deadlines to meet. I’m sure my students would like to use the evening hours to rest.”

With her mentor looking at her with gentle, yet pleading eyes, how could she refuse? He had always been good to her and Wato held him in high esteem. “I will come sensei. Thank you for inviting me.”

They parted ways after Dr. Mizuno texted her the address and time of the party. She hailed for a cab that took her to the hotel where she placed her reservation. Wato checked in with the front desk and trekked upwards to her room. She intended to take a shower, but one look at the comfy queen size bed changed her priorities to sleep first. She could always freshen up after a long deserve nap.

***

It was late afternoon when she woke up. Her stomach grumbled for food as a consequence for foregoing sustenance to rest. Wato decided to shower before heading out for a quick bite and dress shopping at a department store before nightfall. She exited the hotel and indulged herself at food stalls. Fresh, piping hot treats at low prices. Long winding lines filled with customers waiting for a chance to purchase a scrumptious morsel. It had been a long time since she had street food.

Once her cravings were satisfied, Wato made her way to the closest department store not far from the food stalls. Upon her arrival, sale associates directed her to their formal wear. She tried on many outfits and eventually settled for a floor length, black v-neck dress. The sleeves and dress length was a plus to keep her legs and upper arms warm. She also bought low heels and earrings to complete her outfit.

Wato arranged with the department store to deliver her purchases to the hotel at the registers. This gave her free time to roam around the Shibuya neighborhood and enjoy the night scenery of the city without extra baggage. Her wanderings made her reflect her stay in Tokyo. She could not stay here for long. Housing in the capital was expensive; it was difficult to secure an apartment with a small income.

The most logical choice would be returning to Sapporo. Up north, she would be back in a familiar environment and have job security. She could easily have a place at her family’s hospital. Her sisters would be overjoyed to see her. Wato’s older sister, her confidant, would give her comfort and security she sorely missed.

All these were good reasons, but returning home was not an option.

She was brilliant like all the doctors in her family. She even had the compassion a physician needed to help patients. The stark difference between her and her family members was ambition. Her relatives were content with staying in Sapporo or any nearby city on the island of Hokkaido. Nobody was interested in traveling south or abroad to make a difference for others. Only Wato had that drive. The Great East Japan Earthquake influenced her career path. It was not the damage that tugged her heart strings, but the humanitarian responses. Help from the international community left a deep impression on her; she wanted to be part of that world.

She started researching medical volunteer abroad programs. A mission to Syria could use her skills as a surgeon. When she announced her intentions to travel, she was met with protest from her parents. It was not about their concern for her safety. Rather, it was judgement about functioning in an intense environment. There was no way a young lady such as herself would ever thrive in a war zone. Those words fueled her zeal to work harder. Only her older sister and Dr. Mizuno were her advocates. Eventually, her efforts led her to volunteering and hopping on the plane.

In the end, it was all for nothing. Her performance did not meet up to her expectations. It was cruel that her parent’s words were almost like a prophecy. She could not keep a level head to help those that were suffering. The bomb near the hospital prompted a swift response from the government to have all Japanese volunteers return. She opted to stay in Tokyo instead of taking a layover to Sapporo. She could imagine the condescending words and looks if she saw her parents.

Returning was not an option. She would find a way to stay in Tokyo.

That was her mantra as she commuted back to her hotel.

Later at night, she received a pleasant text from Mizuno Akiko asking to spend lunch together. Wato was fond of Dr. Mizuno’s family; Akiko was a great friend that listened to her troubles and Airi was the sweetest girl Wato knew. She promptly replied back, accepting Akiko’s invitation.

***

“It’s good to see you again, Tachibana-san,” Akiko remarked before taking a bite in her sandwich.

“Likewise, Akiko-san; how are you and Airi-chan doing?”

After exchanging pleasantries, Wato set the course of discussion by talking about an easy subject: Airi. Akiko loved her daughter; the strong love for her child enabled her to storm through a bitter divorce of her first marriage and gained admiration from Dr. Mizuno, leading to Akiko’s second marriage. As a mother, Akiko throughly enjoyed talking about her little girl.

Wato politely listened to Akiko while eating her meal. Like her breakfast with Dr. Mizuno, she wanted to divert conversations alluding to Syria. That tactic worked on her mentor since he could be oblivious at times whenever he got caught up in telling a tale. However, Akiko was not easily fooled; raising a daughter enabled her to recognize nonverbal cues. It was clear that there were topics Wato did not wish to discuss.

So Akiko decided to switch topics.

“How are your sisters?”

“They’re fine, keeping busy with work and school.” That was what Wato knew months ago. Her older sister was seeing a nice man. Given her sister was the heir to the hospital, Wato was sure the boyfriend would also become her brother-in-law. The younger siblings should be studying hard for the entrance exams.

Akikio gave her a pointed look. It was clear that Wato was giving a half-truth. Fortunately, Akiko did not press further.

“Thank you for agreeing to accompany Takayuki for the party tonight,” Akiko commented. “He was quite worried of being the only person with a medical background in a party surrounded by law enforcement.”

“Of course. I owe a lot to him.” Wato sipped on her drink. Eating her sandwich made her thirsty. “Sensei mentioned you were busy with work?”

“My company has been pushing all the research scientists to complete their tests; upper management wants us to publish our findings so we can compete with Morthon Pharmacy.” Akiko grimaced. She was a research assistant at a pharmaceutical company that enabled her flexible hours to raise Airi. “The pressure is getting fierce due to a rumor about the head Morthon Pharmacy researcher.”

Wato leaned closer. “A rumor?”

“Watanuki Hiroshi-sensei will be announcing his research on a new drug. It took him four years to create it and many are speculating the press release date.”

“What kind of drug was he developing?” Wato asked.

“Who knows?” A slight shoulder shrug. “The subject matter of his drug research is unknown. It’s classified and that makes the executive directors worry. I’m not sure how the president or chairman would respond.”

Wato leaned back on her seat. This was an industrial espionage story in the making. With a premise like this, why television networks could not produce these types of dramas? Even the story Dr. Mizuno told her was also intriguing. Sachiko’s Mustache had the potential to become a tv special.

“Akiko-san,” Wato began. “Please let me know if I can do anything to help.” She was too familiar with having two parents away at work. She was fortunate that she had her older sister. Spending time together during their formative years definitely contributed to their close bond. Airi, on the other hand, did not have that luxury.

Her friend shook her head. “Shouldn’t I be the one saying that? You just got back. Takayuki and I can help find job openings.”

“Actually…I’ve decided not to be a doctor.”

A puzzled look marred Akiko’s face. “Why?” With Dr. Mizuno’s penchant to tell stories over meals, there was no doubt his wife was familiar with Wato’s work ethic and compassion towards patients. His assurance left no doubt Wato would be a great doctor.

Wato recounted her initial plan of working in Tokyo, then moving back to Sapporo; however, the 2011 earthquake changed that and inspired an overseas career that ended disastrously. “People stared at me. I knew I couldn’t be a doctor,” she uttered.

“That must have been difficult,” Akiko said quietly. Although Akiko had never been in a combat zone, there was sympathy in her tone. Wato knew her friend was sad that those six years of surviving rigorous biological science curriculum in college had gone to waste. Akiko also had an intense education to achieve her dream of working in the pharmacy industry. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Wato took her last bite.

***

She took a step back, looking at her refection at the full length mirror. The black dress was elegant, but comfortable. Her long hair was tied back into a neat low-ponytail. The hairstyle allowed her to show her cute earrings. She looked good. From her peripheral view, Wato glanced at the clock. It was almost time before a taxi Dr. Mizuno arranged would pick her up.

By the time she walked out of the lobby, there was a taxi at the driveway with her mentor standing next to the vehicle. He helped her get inside the backseat before he settled in. Dr. Mizuno rattled off Hotel New Kamata’s address to the driver. Hotel New Kamata was not far from Wato’s hotel, but the surgeon knew it would be a nuisance for Wato to use public transportation in her current outfit. Throughout the drive, Dr. Mizuno explained who were the other guests. The only other person that had a similar education background was the medical examiner. The others were law-enforcement, the museum director and his staff, and Maibara. This made Wato comfortable as she trust the surgeon’s word.

The taxi pulled up to Hotel New Kamata. She quickly exited the cab and waited for Dr. Mizuno. They walked towards the entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	2. Chapter 2

Wato was impressed by the decor of Hotel Kamata. Wide, clean, bright, homey. It was a lovely hotel, Wato wished she knew about this place beforehand. She would rather stay here. A concierge behind the front desk kindly directed her and Dr. Mizuno to the meeting rooms. The mentor and student followed the staff member down the hall.

One of the rooms had a door propped open with light seen and sound heard from a distant. Walking closer to the source, there was light chatter and soft jazz music playing in the background. Dr. Mizuno entered the room with Wato following behind. Inside, there was not a huge crowd of people. Wato surmised all personnels dressed in sharp office attire were the police. One man-with glasses and frizzy hair-spotted Dr. Mizuno and walked over. He introduced himself as Inspector Reimon Gentaro of the Investigation Department Section 1. Inspector Reimon was a friendly, soft-spoken man. Wato was impressed by his demeanor. Surely this man must have seen unpleasant things, but he was laid-back.

During their conversation, Reimon cried out, “Shibata!” An outburst followed and another man walked into their party. He was younger than the inspector, with straight hair. His hairstyle gave a boyish impression. “Shibata,” Reimon began, “Mizuno-sensei brought a guest.” Shibata looked at the inspector, then at Wato. “Shibata Tatsuya, Sergeant of the Metropolitan Police Department,” he stated before bowing. Wato returned the greeting and gesture.

“Shibata is one of our newest sergeants for the Investigation Department,” Reimon commented. “He did great to help us with the case.”

Shibata was sporting a blush from such praise, but he covered it up with a huff. “Only it was because of her orders.” He also crossed his arms and turned his head to the side to emphasize his point.

Reimon chuckled while the surgeon and student looked at the duo. “It’s true, we would have overlooked a crucial detail; the results could have been egregious,” he admitted with such amusement. Before the sergeant and inspector could have elaborated more, another officer called them over. They bid their farewell to Wato and Dr. Mizuno. After they left, Dr. Mizuno and Wato looked at each other with awkward smiles.

“Shall we see the reception table?” Wato offered.

***

Wato was on her own at the party while Dr. Mizuno was off chatting with other members of the Investigation Department. They were separated once they were at the reception table. She thought she would be socializing with the medical examiner, not in hush conversations with the forensic pathology team. The scientists were all ladies that kept to themselves, but were friendly. Wato suspected they rather not be at the gathering. The head scientist, Dr. Mukaiyama, whispered that Inspector Reimon personally asked them. He said that their hard work should not be overlooked. Wato was impressed by such professionalism.

The four scientists liked Reimon, but intimidated by Shibata. “It’s not that he’s bad,” one trailed off, unsure how to complete her sentence. “He’s very energetic and highly motivated to pursue justice?” Wato offered. It seemed that the Investigation Department were truly good people. The scientist nodded her head. “He has a good work ethic and great enthusiasm. He’s too lively whenever the inspector collaborates with her.” The team agreed in unison.

Her? That was the second time Wato heard about it.

“Hey! Don’t touch that!” It was Shibata’s voice that echoed out. Dr. Mukaiyama flinched, impelling her closest coworker to comfort the head scientist. Wato twisted her head to the direction of the outburst. It was slightly hard because they were in a corner with a divider panel behind the booth sofa. The panel served as a barrier to ward off guests.

Regardless, she could feel the liveliness of the sergeant. This what they probably meant how the zestful behavior was amplified by another person. Wato sensed their uncomfortableness as they all helped Dr. Mukaiyama. She planned to give them privacy by playing it off by saying she was going back for more food. She even offered to discard their trash. The ladies gave her small smiles as they passed their used plates and cups to her.

***

Wato paid no attention to the conversations around her as she disposed the items. She was not listening to the exact words, but she sensed a tone of uncomfortableness. It seemed that Shibata’s clamor had an effect on the guests. Hopefully Dr. Mukaiyama was feeling better.

While grabbing wagashi, something felt off. Like there was someone watching her. On the right, there was nothing there other than a chocolate fountain and assorted fruit and desserts for dipping. (The hospitality was amazing!) To her left, there was someone standing next to her. A woman with short hair and elegantly dressed in black clothing. Wato felt tiny in her presence-this woman was taller than her. The possibility of wearing heels and proximity (too close for Wato’s comfort) amplified the woman’s height. The other woman said nothing, stoic face and sharp eyes focusing on Wato’s face.

Wato not only felt awkward, but also confused. Was this woman mad at her? They never met before. A lump rose in Wato’s throat. “Can I help you?” she asked. Her voice sounded so weak. The woman’s aura was too strong.

The woman continued staring. Wato thought she would not say a word and considered backing away. Perhaps she could find a new corner to hide and eat her treats in peace.

“You’re a doctor that returned from Syria,” the woman declared. It was spoken with gravitas and a flair of confidence.

That shocked Wato to the core. Reimon, Shibata, nor the forensic team asked about her occupation, let alone stating it. No one suspected she went abroad. How could this woman figured it out? Wato was so astonished that she failed to see her wagashi being plucked from her plate. She only caught on once she saw the last piece being piled on a larger plate of various deserts and fruits drenched in chocolate. “Hey! That’s mine! Eat your own!” she cried out and attempt to reach for her stolen wagashi.

The other woman smirked as she moved her plate out of Wato’s reach. The woman deftly slipped away from Wato.

She could not believed what just happened. Who did that woman think she was? How could she act so impulsive-first assessing her very accurately, then stealing her food? That woman could not get away with such acts. She abandoned her empty plate.

With newfound energy, Wato dashed off in the same direction as the woman. It was hard given that she chose to wear a floor-length dress and low-heels, but that will not stop her. Her determination knew no bounds.

***

The chased ended at the stairwell. The woman was a few steps below Wato; in turn, Wato secretly reveled with the height difference. “Working for the police doesn’t excuse such rudeness!” Wato asserted.

“I’m not a police officer.”

Wato did not expect such response. “Eh?” Her eyes widen and her mouth formed a perfect o. Behind Wato, the stairwell door opened.

“Sherlock is a consulting detective, a specialist in criminology psychology,” Reimon explained as he approached them. “She helps us solve difficult cases as a freelancer, with my authority,” he continued. Wato glanced backed to Sherlock. The freelancer curtsied on cue.

“How did you know? That I’m a doctor?” Wato pressed.

Sherlock cooly gazed at Wato. “There’s suturing thread on your clutch,” she began. Wato recalled that she used the clutch to carry her tools when she attended patients. It did had lingering strands trapped in the crevices of the flap.

“And Syria?”

“Your dress-as unfashionable as it is-adequately hides the uneven tans on the upper arms and shoulders.” Sherlock tilted her head. “A hospital in Syria was bombed three days ago. The volunteer medical team just returned yesterday. You were working with them, weren’t you?” Her lips curled into a smirk.

Wato recoiled from the declaration. Right hand instinctively cradled the left wrist. It felt so empty without her watch wrapped around it.

“Additionally, there is severely dry skin under the jaw. Your skin is reacting badly to the climate change.” The freelancer stepped up and leaned into Wato. Wato stood straight and flinched when Sherlock sniffed her neck. The consulting detective whispered, “I can smell lingering traces of gunpowder on you; a combination of RDX and aluminum. You did not wash it off thoroughly.”

“Satisfied?” The woman pulled her head back.

Wato did not get the chance to reply as Sherlock went to the side and walked upwards, effectively acting like nothing just happened. She barely concentrated on Reimon telling his first deduction experience and the handout he gave her. Wato wordlessly accepted a business card; tucked it in her clutch, not even bothering reading the embossed text. The inspector escorted Wato back to the party.

***

Much to Wato’s disappointment, the forensic team already left. She chatted with the digital forensic technicians, a team of four men. It was fascinating to learn about their work in computer crime, but it was not the same. Unlike forensic pathology, she had a harder time understanding the technical jargon. She quickly excused herself and sat down at another sofa booth.

To make matters worse, Sherlock was still at the party. She was standing against the wall near the chocolate fountain; hardly socializing with the guests and brooding while eating her chocolate. Sherlock’s prowess was an asset for Reimon, but she was definitely insufferable. Wato sympathized Shibata; there was no doubt the sergeant had it rough, given that he was Reimon’s subordinate.

Speaking of Shibata, Wato noticed him walking to the reception table. He also went to the chocolate fountain and had a staring contest with the freelancer.

“What?” he barked as he dipped a marshmallow. “You’re not thinking about touching that jade statue again?” Shibata seemed to have his voice projected whenever the consulting detective was in his proximity. There was no need for Wato to move closer as she could hear them. 

“Jewelry scams are common, especially from businesses in Southeast Asia where jade is mined,” Sherlock retorted. “A true way to tell a real jade is performing a scratch test-“

“Which you will _not_ do because the hotel manager paid good money to buy a decorative item,” the sergeant hissed. “Nobody needs to see you intentionally breaking it and making a scene by scratching it on the floor.”

The woman waved her free hand to a corner. “Windows provide greater scratch visibility. There’s plenty of space.”

“Not the point!” He huffed in exasperation. It was impossible to reason with this woman! “I hope you are on your best behavior. We have guests,” he muttered in hopes of changing topics.

“The doctor?”

“Yeah, he was the one that performed surgery on Kijima.”

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”

“Wait, what?” Shibata gave her an incredulous look. Clearly, talking with Sherlock was a lost cause. “It’s a Friday night with great food. I’m going to widen the distance between us. I hope to not see you again when a new case comes up.” The sergeant took his leave.

Wato turned her head away from the woman. What the hell did that mean? Tolerable, but not handsome enough; who said things like that these days? One thing she knew for sure, that freelancer insulted her twice. Like Shibata, she hoped to not encounter Sherlock ever again.

***

  
“I asked you to accompany me, yet we split up during the party. Did you enjoyed yourself?” Dr. Mizuno asked as the taxi drove away from Hotel Kamata.

“I did,” Wato affirmed. To an extent; the inspector was a gentleman, the sergeant was loud, but has a good heart, the forensic scientists were lovely ladies, and the digital technicians were interesting guys. Sherlock was not. If anything, that woman was an antithesis; her arrogance was apparent with her lackluster interactions. Wato still could not believe her food got stolen and was promptly analyzed then criticized. “How about yourself, sensei?”

“I did. Maibara-san is a wonderful woman. She told me about her late husband and his silver anniversary gift to her. The story about _Sachiko_ is an interesting one.” Wato grinned that _Sachiko_ was dedicated to his wife. It was the final work that reaffirmed their marriage. Such love was poured into a painting! Hearing sweet words was great, she welcomed the chance to woo. Actions, however, demonstrated a person’s character. Maybe someday she would find a love deep and encompassing.

“What are your plans for the weekend sensei?”

“Airi wants to go to a tokusatsu fan meeting tomorrow. I don’t even remember the name. Akiko is more familiar with these things than I am. Since she’s busy, it can’t be helped.” He chuckled, feeling slightly nervous.

“At least you’re spending time with Airi-chan, right?”

There was a twinkle of fondness in his eyes. “That’s right; we may be busy, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be a loving family. “

Wato beamed. Airi was truly a lucky girl with caring parents.  A fun Saturday awaited for father and daughter.

“What are your weekend plans, Tachibana-kun?”

“I have a counseling appointment tomorrow morning. It’s required for all medical volunteers.” She had no say in scheduling; all arrangements were made by the staffing coordinators before they departed from Syria. Since the volunteer team was a large group, everyone was grouped off and assigned to different counselors.

“Who will you be seeing?”

"Irikawa Mariko-sensei.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	3. Chapter 3

A circular table was the only the barrier between the two. A glass cup filled with herbal tea rested on the surface. It was chamomile, good for relieving stress and anxiety. It also induced sleep. Wato refused to take a sip, let alone touch it. The counselor did not seem to mind that a perfect cup was going to waste.

“Are you sleeping well?” Dr. Irikawa asked kindly.

Wato swallowed the dry lump in her throat. “I had trouble sleeping after returning.” She paused. “I’d wake up at night, but I’m okay now.”

“That’s normal; many people suffer from insomnia, especially after returning from combat zones. You’re probably finding it easier to relax now.”

Wato gave out a nervous chuckle. “Actually, my everyday life is pretty stressful.” No job or home. She needed to secure a place to stay and income as soon as possible. There was a tiny percentage of her stress was from Sherlock. It may have been a day, but she could still remember her feelings and impressions from that woman.

The counselor also chuckled. She shared her stress story of age spots and concealers to break the tension. Wato couldn’t find any flaws on Dr. Irikawa’s face.

“Is sharing your problems embarrassing? As if you’re revealing your innermost thoughts?”

Wow. This counselor seemed to understood her feelings and eloquently verbalized it. Dr. Irikawa seemed to have a good grasped on character.

Wato nodded. “That’s right.”

Dr. Irikawa gave her a gentle smile. “Your thoughts are safe with me.” Wato was reassured that any topic was fine, what was on her mind or what she did today.

***

After the appointment, Wato was at a local internet cafe, job hunting for part-time positions. Openings at a library, a yakiniku restaurant, and a gallery seemed promising. She promptly uploaded her resume to the portal and submitted it, hoping for the best. Later, she looked for apartments with relatively inexpensive rent. This was much harder than looking up jobs. There were too many options; she had to carefully scroll at each advertisement and mentally calculate the rates with her budget.

She managed to find some apartments that seemed reasonable to her, though it would be sensible to visit the establishments and meet the landowners. She finished writing down the last address. By then, it was lunch time. Get food, then resume.

Get food translated to waiting in line at a shabu shabu place. Akiko sent her a text earlier, requesting to spend lunch together again. Her friend seemed determine to milk every opportunity before Wato had a stable job. Akiko also announced her roommate from college will be joining them. Fifteen minutes later, she arrived with a Haitani Reiko, a young woman that also worked as a pharmaceutical researcher. 

The three were seated at the round table and were given menus. They ordered drinks, meats, vegetables, broths for their meal. After the server left, Haitani revealed she met a recruiter that offered her a job at Morthon Pharmacy. The catch was, it happened a month ago. The recruiter, Shiina Arisa, took her curriculum vitae and the original copies of her published findings. Shiina promised she would be in touch with Haitani, but nothing happened. No calls, no follow-up emails. It was radio silence. Haitani was troubled that her papers were lost. Her mother even urged her to hire someone to recover her documents.

“Do you need help finding a private investigator?” Wato inquired. She may have her own issues, but she could not turn away from others that were distressed.

Haitani shook her head. “My mom’s riding friend knows someone. That person is like an urban legend: able to solve various problems. Even those that seemed impossible.” She reached inside her purse and pulled out a business card case. She opened it and looked at the first business card. “I put it off, thinking I would get a response. Now, I just want my papers back. I don’t care if I get the job or not.”

Akiko gave a sympathizing pat. “Morthon Pharmacy must be a mess due to the rumor of Dr. Watanuki’s upcoming press release. Yet, it’s irresponsible for the company to keep you waiting.” Wato hummed in agreement. Unprofessionalism at its worst.

There was something familiar about that business. Where had she seen it before? The more Wato thought about it, the more it would annoyed her. She ignored that intrusive thought. There was a lot of food they ordered and cooking the meats and vegetables will require her full attention.

Haitani’s troubles were forgotten once food arrived and Akiko’s cell phone beeped. She received a text message from Dr. Mizuno, sharing photos of Airi’s time at the tokusatsu fan meeting. The mother gushed at these photos and showed it to Haitani and Wato. Wato found herself smiling when it was her turn to look. Airi looked so cute and happy to meet her favorite television character. There was a wide grin on her face. Even Dr. Mizuno had a blast. He even posed with the costumed character. For someone who was unfamiliar with these events, her mentor quickly adjusted.

Akiko quickly dashed off back to work after lunch was paid. She received a call from her coworker that she needed to return right away. Wato and Haitani ended up walking to the train station. Haitani declared she would commute to visit that person. Wato offered to come along as moral support, but Haitani declined. “You and Akiko-chan have listen to my problem. It even helped me find clarity and a solution, that’s more than enough,” she said with gratitude.

***

Waiting to hear responses from companies was hard. Even if it was two days ago since she applied. (The only response she got was an email reminder of her next counseling appointment. She was slightly disappointed.) Apartment hunting was even harder; especially when she was on a time crunch. Her hotel reservation was almost up soon. Some apartment complexes were located in neighborhoods she did not feel comfortable in. (Tokyo was not Aleppo. She knew that, yet her intuition said otherwise.) Others had landowners that seemed keen on raising their rates once they found out she was a doctor. This was really frustrating.

Wato curbed her exasperation by walking to the nearest park. However, a phone call quickly derailed her plan. The caller-ID was Akiko. Normally she would text Wato, but calling meant something urgent.

“Akiko-san?”

_“Tachibana-san! I’m glad I reached you, I have a favor to ask you.”_

“Of course, what can I help you with?” Wato replied calmly. There was agitation in Akiko’s voice; Wato needed to be the sensible one.

 _“Is it possible to pick up Airi? Drug addicts had a knife fight near the vicinity of the school. The police managed to intervene, but many are injured with abdominal stab wounds. Today is Takayuki’s turn, but now he will have to stay at the hospital. No thanks to them,”_ Akiko responded with resentment in her voice. Wato could not blame her; Airi’s biological father got tangled up with drugs shortly after her birth. Substance abuse was a sore topic for her friend.

“I will, Akiko-san. Can you please text me the address?”

***

Wato stood at the front gate along with the other moms. Many housewives were gossiping about the incident. She, on the other hand, reflected on the times she picked up her siblings. Wato and her sister worked as a team; they alternated days (unless one of them had a schedule conflict with club meetings) and sometimes took detours to a food stall or an ice cream parlor if the younglings did well on a test or demonstrated exemplary classroom behavior.

The double doors burst open with kids racing to the front entrance. The children were excited to see their parents and happily waved goodbye to their friends. Although it had been years since she waited at an elementary school, she did not miss the feeling of students rushing by her. Some of them really need to learn manners about pushing and shoving. Given her height advantage, she saw Airi on top of the stairs, looking for her father.

“Airi-chan!” Wato called out, waving her hand.

The little girl’s face light up when she saw Wato. “Wato-oba!” she squealed as she bounded downwards.

Fortunately for Wato, the crowd of children and moms thinned out. She kneeled and stretched her arms to receive Airi. She grunted softly on the colliding impact, but that meant nothing as the girl wrapped her arms around Wato’s neck. “I missed you, Wato-oba,” she said quietly.

Wato grinned at that. “I missed you too.” It had been a year and a half since they last saw each other.

As they separated, Wato took her hand. “Chichi was supposed to pick me up today,” Airi remarked. “Did the hospital needed him for another operation?”

“Yes. Your mother asked me since she’s busy as well.” There was no way she will tell her about the reason why. Dr. Mizuno and Akiko will handle that one. “How is school? Do you like third grade?”

Airi responded positively; she told Wato about her third grade adventures on their walk back.

Upon arriving at the Mizuno apartment, Wato chose to stay. The girl was perfectly capable of taking care of herself (by doing homework), but she knew Akiko would worry and ask Wato to watch Airi until either parent came home. Shortly after she removed her shoes, there was a text message from Akiko.

She spent her afternoon helping Airi with her homework. (It was another nostalgia of tutoring her sisters.) It was a great way to let go of her annoyance at apartments and jobs.

Akiko arrived with groceries in her hands; she went to the market after work and planned to make a hearty nabemono. Over meal preparation, Akiko expressed her gratitude to Wato. She also mentioned Haitani.

“Reiko-chan got her papers back.”

“She did? I’m so happy to hear that! Was it really hard?”

“No,” Akiko said. “She brought a magazine article about Shiina Arisa to the urban legend person and that person was able to track down the recruiter. The recruiter had the papers in her apartment; Reiko-chan had no problems with retrieving it.”

“That person must really be an urban legend.” Tracking people in a metropolitan area was quite a feat.

“Maybe that person can help with your problems,” Akiko teased.

Wato shook her head and continued chopping the vegetables. Urban legend or not, there was no way she would ever let anyone be burdened with her problems. She would handle them herself.

Dr. Mizuno came home much later. Weary from his shift, but pleasantly surprised to see Wato joining his family for dinner. The evening was filled with lighthearted chatter and palatable food.

By the time Wato retired for the night, there was another email in her inbox. It wasan interview request from the library. Things were starting looking up now.

***

Wato expected herself to be a nervous wreck prior to her interview. Oddly enough, she felt fine. All the things she seen and experienced, interviews did not seem to faze her. She even managed to say a great answer about why she was no longer practicing medicine. Wato hoped that it was enough to leave a strong impression with the head librarian.

Now that was over, it was high time to look at a new round of apartments. The first step was to head over to Setagaya. As a heavily dense area, there was no doubt there will be a place for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oba: aunt  
> Chichi: father
> 
> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	4. Chapter 4

“Let me introduce our newest staff member who will be working with us from today.” The head librarian turned to Wato. “Go ahead.”

“I’m Tachibana Wato, I’ll be working part-time. I look forward working with you.” Wato bowed.

“Welcome to the team,” the staff members said in chorus.

That was three days ago. Being a part-timer was starkly different from the longer shifts at the hospital. She had four-hour shifts and was shuffled between different employees that trained her.

Today, she was working with a male coworker. He was teaching her how to arrange the book shelves. Wato followed her colleague, as he wheeled his cart to the adult fiction section. As a work day, there were not many adults reading or studying at the tables. This gave Wato a chance to socialize with her associate.

“The boss mentioned you have a medical license,” he began.

Ah, the million yen topic. Having a background in healthcare wielded influence. Her professional reputation seemed to precede the person herself. There was a gnawing feeling that would be a conversation starter for all her non-medical jobs.

She stood up after placing the book in its proper place. “That’s right, but I want to try various jobs.” There was no point in hiding it, especially after their boss mentioned it to everyone. Though, it would be nice to have some anonymity.

“Have you worked here long?” she asked, effectively directing the conversation back to him.

“I’m actually a writer...kind of,” he replied, not really giving Wato an answer.

A writer? How interesting! “So this is a side job?” There was respect for those who chose to make a career in the Arts. Gaining a reputation and earnings were not easy in this field.

“This place is a treasure trove to me.” He walked up to Wato. “Being surrounded by books inspires me,” he continued while shelving more books. 

“I see.” She could only imagine how much inspiration artists drew upon everyday life. How do they do that? Probably by having strong attention to details whenever they created a work. It had to be laborious to create something that looked deceptively easy. This was a different world than she was accustomed to.

A large hand covered hers; stopping her from inserting the book. “Ah, that goes here.” With his hand on top of hers, he guided the book to its correct corner. His shoulder covered her face as he maneuver the book. This was the second time someone came into her personal space. It felt different. Perhaps it was because it was not on purpose? After all, her workmate was helping her out.

The staff member realized he was in awkward position once he turned his head. He was really close to her face. He retracted his hand and quickly moved aside. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Well, that was weird. Her heart flustered with the close proximity. She was starting to become acquainted with her fellow librarians. “I’ll go to the storeroom,” Wato said quickly. She needed to vacate the premise. She took big strides while walking down the main aisle, placing great distance from her workstation. Her left hand tingled from the brief contact she had. This was really weird.

***

Akiko was waiting for her in the library lobby. She was the only one Wato told about her new job and the address for her new place. Wato felt a sense of gratitude towards her friend. Akiko had done so much to make Wato feel at home in Japan. Since Wato only booked for a week; she intended to use the last day to move her luggage. Akiko offered to pick her up after her shift and drive to the hotel. She accompanied Wato to her room and carried her luggage to the car. Her apartment was quite far from the hotel. Fortunately, the commute was light; there was no traffic.

The trip to Setagaya proved to be fruitful. Not only the landowner was a man of integrity (her medical license did not change his stance on rent), but her future home was in a good area. The apartment was certainly old with lacking utilities and located in a back alley, but there was a hustle of activity to make it lively. Many families lived here, there were kids running around and teenagers hanging out. Police officers were assigned to the neighborhood, enhancing the safety for civilians. Not far was a small grocery store, a laundromat, a cafe, a health clinic, and even a public bath space. She had what she needed in a back alley at a reasonable price. Simple necessities that were perfect for her.

So much had happened in less than a week. Wato did not intend on attending a party on her second day back in Japan. Yet, she went with Dr. Mizuno and met wonderful people. (Sherlock does not count.) She fretted about not having a home or job in a city with no family connections to rely on. Somehow, she managed. Living quarters could be questionable and her income was not much, but it was a start. It was a foundation for something new.

“Akiko-san, you didn’t have to go furniture shopping with me,” Wato said as Akiko dragged her back to the car. Since Wato did not have much, unpacking was very easy. “You have done so much for me.”

“It’s fine Tachibana-san, I’m not needed at work,” Akiko easily responded as she buckled her belt. She gestured Wato to do the same. “Airi is not out from school. There’s time for a shopping trip.”

Not needed at work? What did that mean? “How come? Didn’t you have deadlines for your project?” Wato was confused. Akiko took pride in her profession. She may have grumbled about the recent workload, but she would never slack off.

Her friend sighed. “Watanuki-sensei is missing. Morthon executives are in a panic; all preparation work on their end is put on hiatus. For my company, we have been working nonstop; we are ahead of schedule. With this new development, my supervisor is giving us time off.”

Wato widened her eyes. She could not believe the head researcher disappeared. Why would he do that? What was he working on? How important was the research? It seemed to be a dangerous one, since he went missing. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope the police will find him.”

“I’m sure they will,” Akiko reassured. She turned on the ignition and drove out of the neighborhood.

Akiko helped her find simple furniture to decorate the barren space. She insisted on getting a proper bed, but Wato vehemently declined. A bed would be nice, but it would be too much work to carry the frame and mattress to the apartment and assemble it. Wato knew her friend was concern about her standard of living and she meant well. Akiko, however, will never truly understand. Her time in Syria also taught her how to be a nomad. It was an experience of staying on guard, always ready to fight or flight (for Wato, she leaned towards the latter). There was no guaranteed where she would have to move again. The less possessions she carried, the better. She opted for the futon and a kotatsu instead of a bed and a western dining table set. Since these items were not bulky, they were able to fit inside Akiko’s car. They worked together assembling and arranging the furniture before they decided to take a break. Both Wato and Akiko thoroughly enjoyed a curry and coffee lunch. Who knew that it would be a great meal?

***

“Congratulations on finding a new job,” she said after Wato finished her tale.

“It involves a lot of labor,” Wato complained. “My arms are killing me.” That earned a chuckle from the counselor.

“Starting a new job comes with anxiety, but it’s nice to meet different people,” Dr. Irikawa commented.

Wato agreed; it was nice meeting new people. Except for one, but that was not important. She took a sip of the chamomile tea. It was steeped at the right temperature and time. The tea was delicious, refreshing, and relaxing.

Dr. Irikawa watched her drink with gentle eyes. “Is that Misanga, a love charm?” she asked with curiosity.

“No way!” Wato exclaimed. “I got this from someone when I left Syria.” She lifted up her left arm, looking at the woven bracelet. It was from a nurse that served as a translator between doctor and patient. Wato was admired the nurse’s mastery in Japanese. She learned about the intricacies of Arabic. (She had no idea that the locals in her assigned area spoke Levantine Arabic. In Aleppo, it was specifically North Syrian Arabic.) Wato learned the alphabet, knew simple expressions, and experienced home cooked meals. That nurse was her crash course into Syrian culture. It was heartbreaking to leave Syria, especially the nurse. Since the nurse was not a Japanese national, the evacuation order did not apply.

Aleppo may not be battleground any longer, but that did not lessen her worry for the nurse’s safety. On her last full day, the nurse gave her a woven bracelet. The nurse explained it was a little tradition for departing volunteer medics to received one. It started with a European doctor that brought a packet of bracelets; he gave one to each staff member as a token of gratitude. Tragically, that doctor was killed in an airstrike. The surviving staff members decided to honor that tradition. Each staff member never told the departing physicians the significance behind it. Instead, they encouraged all of them to find out for themselves.

The counselor explained those were called bonfim bracelets. In Portuguese, it meant happy ending.

“Happy ending,” Wato repeated in amazement. “I like it.”

“When the bracelet falls off, your wish comes true.”

That tempted Wato to tug it. The fate of having a wish fulfilled tempted her. However, the counselor warned her that it had to happen naturally. It made her wonder what her wish will be. A wry smile formed on her face, “I’d like a love potion that works instantly on a man.” She wanted a gentleman to come into her life and sweep off her feet.

“That sounds great! Be sure to give me some!” Dr. Irikawa chimed in. “Don’t keep it to yourself.”

“Of course!” Wato chuckled.

The appointment was significantly better than the first one. She got to know Dr. Irikawa better and the counselor knew how to balance seriousness with light-hearted banter. Wato felt comfortable and eager to return for more sessions. There was a place for her in the counseling office.

***

A few days later, Wato received calls from the yakiniku restaurant and gallery. She diligently scheduled interviews with both locations and mentally prepared herself. Her fellow librarians cheered her on. Many worked on multiple part-time jobs to make ends meet. Some even offer to cover her shift in case the interview time interfered with her hours. Wato felt grateful that she met understanding coworkers.

The first interview was with the gallery. Gallery Gelder was conducting a mass hiring. The facility was in debt, resulting many workers to be laid-off. It did not help that the former director recently passed. Under new leadership, the gallery reformed its organizational structure. It started by advertising to artists. By a stroke of luck, many sent their application in hopes of having their art display. This lead to Gallery Gelder moving to a bigger space to accommodate the increasing number of applicants. It also inspired the director to set up a monthly theme where it could showcase multiple works simultaneously. Hence, the gallery was very eager to take in any candidates. Wato was pleased that they were willing to work with her library schedule.

“It says here you were part of the volunteer medical team,” the director stated.

“Yes,” Wato confirmed. She anticipated the next response to be about her medical license.

“Which country did you travel to?”

That was different. She wondered why. “I went to Syria, stayed there for a year and a half before I returned.”

“We received an applicant that did photography work in the Middle East. Would you be interested in helping out once we sort out the details?”

Wow. That was different; the director was seriously thinking of hiring her! “I am interested,” she responded. She wondered which country served as the subject matter for this work. It was a huge region after all.

Afterwards, she spent her time reading and signing documents the director handed to her. It felt exciting that she was working in the Arts field. This was more hands on than the library position, but it was different in a good way. Again, it was the start of something new. Wato hoped that the yakiniku restaurant would flexible with scheduling.

It turned out the restaurant was a temporary position. Some of the servers were recovering from a mishap that happened months ago and one was on maternity leave. The eatery was selecting applicants that could briefly take place of the regular workers. The hours were not as lenient as the other two. Wato expected something like this would happened. She needed to contact the gallery director and head librarian to rearrange her schedule. Nevertheless, she accepted. It did not hurt to make cash on the side. She could always find a new job once this one ends. Not to mention, the kimono uniform was cute. She loved that shade of pink.

***

At her work shift, her coworkers celebrated that her interviews went well. The head librarian was understanding and agreed to shift her schedule once she had the hours from the yakiniku restaurant. She was teamed up with same male coworker that aspired to be a writer. Although they had an uncomfortable encounter, she became more opened with him as they wheeled their carts around the library. Wato asked about his novel and that launched into a speech about his idol, Ernest Hemingway. She was unfamiliar with American literature, but that lead him to talking about Hemingway’s adventurous lifestyle. Hemingway’s travels served as the inspiration and setting for his novels. Wato listened in rapt attention as the colleague described Hemingway’s debut work.

The staff member did not finish his tale as a customer requested his help for reaching a book. Wato finished shelving the books. The storeroom did not have any more books that needed to be put back. She left her cart in the storeroom and walked around the library. Wato hoped she could find the male librarian or another employee that could give her another task. (She had to look busy.)

Instead, she found herself almost tripping on a pile of books in the side aisle way. At first, she thought she was in the children section. There were a group of kids that visit the library every week for reading time. Many of them were good at tidying, but there was the occasion of books disheveled and stacked haphazardly. Wato looked up at her surrounding books. This was the academic science journal section. Why would it be a mess? College students that come here often had mountains of journals on the table, forming a little booth of privacy. In this case, the books formed a barricade. The strange part was there were many barricades placed on the floor. Her eyes followed the path. Further up ahead, there was a lone figure, sitting on the floor, flippantly turning the pages with a stoic expression on her face.

Why was she here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	5. Chapter 5

Wato marched up to the sitting woman. “Hey, don’t read there!” she whispered.

“Why are you here?” Sherlock countered. The freelancer never bothered to look up.

“I started working here!” Wato snapped as she crouched downwards. She was really starting to understand Shibata. How could she _not_ raise her voice at this intolerable woman? Wato may be irritated, but she refused to cause a ruckus and trouble other patrons. Too bad she does not have Shibata’s contact information. It would be great if she could meet him for coffee and talk about their grievances.

The consulting detective remained silent as she continued flipping through the book. Wato peered downwards.

“A book by Watanuki-sensei?” she murmured. Why was this woman interested in Morthon’s head researcher?

“It was published four years ago. There’s nothing major written in it,” Sherlock explained with disinterest. All that time that woman refused to make eye contact at Wato. Wato was sorry she asked, but it was the consulting detective’s fault for leaving a pile on the ground. If she did not clean it up, she might get in trouble.

The freelancer tapped on the book. “Except for one interesting section.”

Wato could only stare. The index finger tapped again. When Wato did nothing, the tapping tempo increased. Eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. The woman was tapping on the book. So what? Given that she experienced the freelancer’s eccentric mannerisms (an impression she never wanted to remember), Wato remained still. It was better to not do anything than come close to Sherlock’s space. What will happen next if she did? She could not predict this woman at all!

Eventually, Sherlock got tired of tapping. With an annoyed grunt, the book opened in her lap was slammed shut and tossed to the side. Wato cringed when the book hit the ground. She made a mental note to check for any dents.

Wato took a step back once Sherlock’s arm was out. The woman had a long arm span! That freelancer may insult, steal, and make a mess in front of her, but Wato refused to be on the receiving end of physical contact bordering on violence. The other book was abruptly swiped from its resting spot.

In the consulting detective’s hands, the book was opened to a bookmarked section. Wato was sure that academic journals were not supposed to have the page corners folded. It was the library’s property after all.

Sherlock twisted her body and thrusted the book towards Wato. She almost dropped the book. Typical unpredictable behavior; the freelancer should have said something if she wanted Wato look! This woman clearly had no manners. “Drugs that erase fear?” Wato read out loud. It was easy to identify the passage. The bold title was highlighted in yellow. Wato ought to report this woman to the head librarian.

“He dreamt of making a drug that erases bad memories,” Sherlock continued like nothing transpired.

Wato never heard of anything like that before. She never thought it would be possible-other than mental conditioning. Still, it was an impressive feat. Dr. Watanuki worked over four years to create a fear erasing drug. Then, Akiko’s words rang in her head. This was supposed to be his press release! No wonder Morthon Pharmacy was in disarray on Haitani’s end. His research was top priority for preparation.

Yet, he went missing almost two weeks ago.

“What was that?”She snapped Wato out of her musings and back to the present.

Yikes; Wato said that out loud. Sherlock was now staring at her, expecting an explanation.

“Watanuki-sensei, he’s missing,” she repeated.

“Yes, that has already been established. Morthon Pharmacy filed a missing report today.”

“No, he’s been gone longer than that,” Wato countered, remembering how Akiko casually mentioned her time off from work.

The consulting detective narrowed her eyes. A silent interrogation of what she knew.

Wato truly wished she never opened her mouth. Or saw Sherlock in the first place. All she wanted to do was finish her shift in peace. She wanted no conflict or any part of the freelancer’s antics. With piercing eyes staring at her; she knew she had to answer truthfully.

“My friend; she works as a research assistant for another pharmaceutical company,” Wato admitted. “The pharmaceutical companies often practice espionage to gather information from other businesses. There were talks about Morthon Pharmacy preparing a press release for Watanuki-sensei. This put pressure on rival organizations to complete their projects so they could compete with Morthon. The last time I saw my friend, she mentioned it to me. All organizations are putting their research on hiatus because of Watanuki-sensei’s missing status.” In Wato’s opinion, the other corporations could not come close to Morthon. Dr. Watanuki’s work was huge and a game changer for Japan and the other Asian pharmaceutical industries. Perhaps this was why Dr. Watanuki went missing. She shuddered at the thought. It was truly mortifying.

“How stupid to overlook something so basic,” the consulting detective said quietly.

“Eh?”

Sherlock abruptly stood up. Once again, she was wearing her heels. Her full height intimidated Wato. She snatched the book out of Wato’s hands and strutted away. Poor Wato was trying to process what had happened. She was still surrounded by book barricades that littered the floor. “Pick up after yourself!” Wato commented as she bent down to push the books off to the side. Suddenly, she had a startling epiphany. The freelancer still had the book Wato was forced to read. The book, damaged with bent pages and marks, was in Sherlock’s hands.

Oh, no.

Wato was sure the consulting detective would brazenly exit the library without checking out the book. She would not put pass that woman to steal library property in a transparent manner. Speaking of checking out, did Sherlock possessed a library card?

Wato groaned, she did not want to be involved with her. However, if she did not intervene, that guilt would be on her mind. She could not afford to lose her job so easily, especially when it took her a long time to earn it. Wato pushed the books to the shelves and bounded after the woman. She was not looking forward speaking with Sherlock, let alone forcing her to apply for a library card.

The application would be a pain; especially since the woman would be uncooperative. Not to mention, the freelancer’s name. What kind of name was Sherlock? Clearly, it was not Japanese. Wato suspected it was not even her real name.

From the distance, it was a surreal experience to watch the consulting detective waiting to use the self-check out station. It looked like she had a library card. Good, Wato would not have to endure a potential painless process of forcing Sherlock to complete forms.

“Tachibana-san,” the head librarian called out.

Wato flinched, fearing for the worse; did he find the messy pile in the academic journal section? She turned to her boss that was walking up to her. “Yes?”

“Your shift will be over in one minute. Make sure you sign off on time.”

Looks like he did not. Phew! “Yes, sir,” she responded.

Wato mentally calculated how long it would take her to walk to the staff computer and sign off. By the time she was done, she could grab the forms used for damaged books. Yes, she would get a copy and force the freelancer to sign it and pay the fine. This was a great plan.

***

When Wato walked into the lobby with the form in her hand, she caught Sherlock near the exit doors. Like history repeating itself, she chased after the consulting detective. This time it was easier because she was wearing her street clothes and flats.

“Wait!” she cried out once they were outside. Much to Wato’s relief, the freelancer stopped. The woman refused to acknowledge Wato’s presence, but she seemed to listen. Wato walked closer to the freelancer and stood in front of her. “You have damaged library property,” she declared and pushed the form in front of Sherlock’s face. “You have to sign this form and pay the fine.”

The poor paper was knocked away. The force was not violent, but it surprised her regardless. It seemed that her body was conditioned to flinch whenever the woman was in her vicinity.

“Your skin adjusted to the change in climate,” she said.

“You must be out of your mind,” Wato asserted. “You have damaged a book that is under your name.”

"Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more agreeably engaged.”

Okay, she did not understand a word the consulting detective had said. Like Shibata, she wanted to widen the distance.

“You better return that book,” Wato responded. “Fine included. What do you want with a damaged book, anyway?”

A smirk graced Sherlock’s face. “Are you after the truth? Or just curious?”

“I want the truth!” she declared. No more games! Why was Wato a marionette for the freelancer’s amusement?

“Okay. Maybe I’ll ask your opinion as a doctor,” the woman commented.

Eh? What about a doctor’s opinion? All she wanted was to hold Sherlock responsible for defacing an academic journal. “What? No, I want you to sign this form and pay the fine,” Wato countered. She bent down and picked up the crumpled paper.

“Suit yourself, but I’ll make sure you regret this.” Wato’s left wrist was clamped firmly by Sherlock’s right hand. The tug forced Wato to propel upward. She was now in the consultant’s clutches, wondering how the hell she got caught up in this mess.

***

They stopped in front of a small soba shop. The lunch hour was almost over, yet there were many patrons inside. Wato’s wrist was not free until they approached a small table. There was a lone customer about to enjoy his zaru soba. Being in a noodle shop made her wished she could eat right now.

The freelancer made Wato sit on the booth, forcing her to sit next to the man. “May I?” Wato politely asked.

“Oh! Excuse me, of course!” he replied, moving his backpack out of the way.

Sherlock, on the other hand, sat on the opposite side, facing him. The customer paled when he saw the consulting detective’s face.

“Huh? What do you want?” he asked defensively. It seemed that he was an unfortunate soul that also had an unpleasant interaction with this woman. Being next to him gave Wato an advantage to understand his identity. She noticed that he donned a typical suit and tie. The only striking feature was the yellow lanyard around his neck. Morthon Pharmacy was printed on the polyester.

The freelancer moved his plate away from him. “You heard of a drug that erases fears, right?” When he refused to say anything, Sherlock placed the library book on the table. “As you know, Watanuki proposed it four years ago,” she continued while grabbing the condiment jar. “Which you don’t know of, right?” He remained quiet.

She opened the jar and tilted it over the zaru soba. “Let’s hear the details,” she commanded while heaping spoonfuls of tenkasu on the noodles. It was a ghastly sight; beautiful noodles and presentation ruined by an avalanche of a deep-fried flour-battered. Wato’s face twisted into disgust; she was sure the Morthon employee on her right was also shared her feelings. For Wato, she was repelled by Sherlock’s actions and nonchalant attitude for ruining someone’s meal. The pharmaceutical worker had to be incredibly upset that his food was taken away with ease.

The consulting detective continued to dump tenkasu. Finally having enough, the man leaned forward. “Promise not to reveal what I tell you,” he conceded. “I don’t want to tarnish Watanuki-sensei’s good name.” She looked at him and placed the condiment jar down.

He picked up the library book and looked at it. “Sensei was determined to develop that drug,” he began. “In order to erase victim’s memories of abuse or war. However, he realized the drug was too strong. It could be destructive in the wrong hands.”

“It sounds great,” he paused. Wato wholeheartedly agreed; it would have been nice to ease the pain of conflict in a war zone-especially for children that were victims of violent circumstances. He continued, “but, we can see it another way, as a cold blooded lethal weapon.”

“A murder weapon,” Wato whispered. The ramifications a drug like this could have was terrifying.

“Did he finish developing it?” the freelancer cut in, raising the condiment jar again.

“Yes, the chairman wanted him to publish his findings,” he confirmed. “I don’t know anything else about it.”

Heavy silence permeated the air. It was a lot to process. Such research had the potential to become a top-government project. Perhaps Dr. Watanuki did not meet the approval from government representatives.

“When did Watanuki gone missing?”

Wato could tell that he wanted to say today (an order made by the executive directors), but knowing Sherlock’s potential in orchestrating interrogations made him think twice.

“Almost two weeks ago,” the Morthon employee admitted.

Wow, it looked like gossip circulated among scientists and research assistants were not only fast, but accurate.

The interrogation came to end when the woman’s phone rang. The consulting detective reached for phone and answered. “What?” she greeted and listened to the other speaker. “You found him? Tortured from electric shocks?” Sherlock grinned and hung up. She pushed the tenakasu laden zaru soba back to the pharmaceutical employee and stood up. The freelancer left without saying good bye. Good riddance, Wato did not need any more negativity in her life.

“Excuse me, isn’t this her book?”

Oh crap!

Wato took the book from his hands, bowing briefly for the inconvenience the woman has caused and gratitude for the information he shared. Wato dashed out of the soba shop to catch up with Sherlock. Her appetite was greatly ruined by the consulting detective’s antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	6. Chapter 6

Wato was glad that she was wearing flats today. She managed to catch up with Sherlock as they walked down the streets before traveling by cab. The woman was lost in thought, she barely listened to a word Wato said. Wato repeatedly asked the consulting detective to take the book. Wato eventually resigned; she placed the book in her tote bag. Hopefully she would remember to give it back to the freelancer.

The cab stopped at a hospital. It was not the one where Dr. Mizuno work. Too bad, she would love to see her mentor. He could also save her from the consulting detective. Wato followed Sherlock to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) floor. It was a familiar setting, being in a sterile, quiet, and expansive facility. The only sound was the quiet humming of the ICU equipment. It was different from the Syrian hospitals in more ways than one. To her left, there were glass windows that allowed doctors, nurses, and visitors see the patient from the outside. She glanced at one glass window. There was a nurse changing the bed sheets in preparation for the next patient.

Down the hallway, there was Inspector Reimon and Sergeant Shibata. They were looking at a male patient that was lying on the bed with a mechanical ventilator, a cardiac monitor, tubes, and catheters attached to him. It seemed like they were discussing something important.

“This case is too complicated for us to solve,” the inspector stated calmly.

“We haven’t even started to investigate!” the sergeant argued.

“What if we investigate first and miss the truth?” Reimon countered.

“What? Investigating is our job!”

Their debate was cut short as Wato and the woman approached. “Good afternoon!” she called out. Wato said it slightly louder than she would in the hospital; she needed to break their tension before the freelancer opened her mouth and pissed off Shibata. This worked effectively as Shibata took a step back and kept his distance from the consulting detective. Reimon, on the other hand, noticed Wato trailing behind Sherlock. He gave her a small smile before handing a file to the woman. “Shibata,” he began, “fill them in.”

Shibata briefly made eye contact with Wato before he started talking. He explained that the man before them was Dr. Watanuki of Morthon Pharmacy. It turned out that the head researcher was famous for his psychopharmacology work. The Metropolitan Police Department received a missing person report this morning. Later, someone called that there was an unconscious, wounded man laid upright. He was found underneath the freeway overpass, near a transposition transmission tower (which most likely explains how he received electric shocks). The medical staff found his driver’s license and reported it to the police.

Wato shuddered; she felt sorry for this man. He worked arduously for four years and completed it. His accomplishments ended up being filed as a missing person. He was gone for about two weeks. Now, he was back; this time in the ICU. This was incredibly messed up. “How is he?” she asked Shibata.

“He doesn’t know his own name; has no idea who he is,” the sergeant responded politely.

Reimon moved closer to Sherlock, who was still reading the files. “I want to hear what you think about this.”

“His neocortex is damaged; frontal lobe is destroyed,” she retorted. The woman arranged the papers and tossed it to Wato. At this point, Wato was conditioned to catch anything the freelancer tossed to her. “Hands and feet were bound, there are burns on his head. He was tortured using electric shocks, at least 1,000 volts,” the consulting detective concluded.

“Tortured?” Wato and Shibata were aghast.

The four left the ICU hallway and went to the lobby. Reimon and Sherlock were ahead; the freelancer was relaying the information she gathered from the Morthon employee. Shibata was with Wato; they walked slightly slower on purpose.

“It has been a while since we last met. Have you been well?” Wato started.

“To an extent; wished I didn’t have to work with her again,” he grumbled. Then he looked at Wato. “I’m surprised to see you with her. Are you her new assistant or something?”

“Not at all! It’s a long story of why I’m here. She’s insufferable, I rather not be anywhere near her. Yet, here I am; the universe must be conspiring against me.”

“I know the feeling.” A beat later, he spoke again. “Would you like to swap stories sometime? It’s always healthier to talk about stress; we can form our own support group.”

Wow! Wato’s mood immediately improved. She remembered musing about contacting the sergeant so they could complain about the consulting detective. Now, she met Shibata again and he offered! She immediately agreed. Shibata gave his business card. The office number and work emailed were scratched out and replaced with personal information. He told her to contact him. Wato respected his decision to keep his professional and private life separate.

“Shibata! We have to get going,” Reimon announced.

“Yes, sir!” The sergeant looked at Wato. “We’ll coordinate a time and place.”

“Of course! I’ll see you soon,” Wato replied. She scanned her surroundings; it seemed quiet. Too quiet. The woman was gone!

She hustled after the inspector and sergeant. “Have you seen her? I have something I need to give back.” The book in her bag felt heavier; there was no doubt that the library form she stashed in her purse was crushed from the jostling.

“She arranged for a car to pick her up. Sherlock is no longer here,” Reimon replied.

That fast? Wato deflated. She was stuck carrying a book that was not checked out in her name.

“I’ll let Sherlock know you have something for her,” the inspector proposed. “It’s hard to catch her when she’s on the move.” He chuckled, very amused at the freelancer’s speedy nature.

She bid them good bye and resigned to finding an eatery. Her post-work adventure made her ravenous. Wato was not interested in ordering noodles. A nice, hot plate of tonkatsu curry and coffee sounded appealing.

***

Today was her day off from the library. However, she was needed at the gallery and the yakiniku restaurant to fill out paperwork. She stopped at the eatery first; the place was not opened, giving her ample time to complete the employment documents at her own pace. Afterwards, she tried out the kimonos. Coral pink suited her well. She looked forward wearing the uniform during her shift. Wato practiced moving her cart while wearing the kimono. She was also taught how to operate the table-top stove. Even though there were no customers, she could feel the fast-pace nature of the yakiniku restaurant. Adrenaline flowed through her veins; it was second nature after all. The occupation and setting may change, but the feelings were the same. Whether she was in Sapporo, Aleppo, or Tokyo: she could handle it.

The manger gave her the work schedule before she left. She commuted to Gallery Gelder; it was more convenient for her to arrange her work schedule while completing Human Resource forms. Waiting for the director enabled her time to study the building better. The gallery itself was a clean, empty space. The walls were painted in dark grey; it seemed unusual (she thought it would have been more fitting if it was white, emulating a blank canvas or paper), but she saw the appeal when it was backdrop for a painting on display. The walls served as a neutral color; it was easy on the eyes and did not overpower the art piece. Wato passed by numerous gallery wings that consisted bare walls. She assumed that these were reserved for upcoming talents that were chosen. She also grossly underestimated how big the gallery truly was. Wato could not imagined how massive some artworks were. The art world seemed fascinating.

The director guided her to a workroom where she could sit down and complete the forms. It did not take her long to complete the employment forms. She was familiar with the questions and sections she had to complete; it did help that this was her third one. Wato was now waiting for the administrative assistant to arrange her schedule. This gave her time to do people watching. There were not many people at the gallery (sans employees that watched spectators closely; the staff members monitor for potential misconduct towards the artworks) since it was a weekday. There was light chatter among art lovers (she could tell by their fashion sense). Wato tried to imagine how lively Gallery Gelder must be on the weekends and events. Like the yakiniku restaurant, there was a sensation of thrill.

The administrative assistant finally returned and presented Wato the gallery work schedule. It must have been difficult for incorporating her hours to the business hours, but it worked out in the end. All that remain was heading towards the library and share the new schedule with the head librarian. With her work hours, Wato needed to be careful about spending her free time for errands, rest, and fun. She was now juggling three jobs. This should be nothing in comparison to a war zone.

***

“I hope you’re okay with street food.”

“I don’t mind! I missed eating Japanese food when I was abroad.”

“That’s good,” Shibata trailed off, looking at the vendors ahead. “There’s a really good crepe stall next to that vendor machine.”

Wato’s eyes light up with excitement. “I trust your judgement, Shibata-san.”

The two strolled down the bustling streets of Harajuku. It was an early Saturday morning. Wato was groggy from working the evening shift at the yakiniku restaurant. Normally, she would welcome the chance to sleep more, but this was the only time the sergeant was not busy. There was slow correspondence in setting a time and place. Eventually, simplicity won. There was no need to wait in line for an overpriced cafe that served mediocre tea and pastries.

“Do you often come here?” she asked as they were in queue.

“Not in a long time,” he divulged. “I have less free time since I was promoted. I have three older sisters; they’re into the newest food trends. They keep texting me new eateries that open in Tokyo. It’s very hard to keep track of their messages since Tokyo is a metropolitan. It would take me several lifetimes to try every single place!”

Wato giggled. Tokyo was not that different from Sapporo. Her younger siblings worked as a team to keep track of every ice cream parlor within the city. They were also unsuccessful in persuading the eldest and Wato for chaperoning in their gastronomy adventure. Those were fun memories. She could not forget the disappointment etched on their faces and the times their faces brighten when she decided to grant their wish on a whim. Wato wondered if they still continued that tradition.

While waiting for crepes, Shibata and Wato bought cans of green tea. They exchanged stories about their hometown. Shibata was brought up in Minato. It was a strategic location since many conglomerate corporations were located in this ward. His father owned a cleaning company. It was fortunate that his father’s business never ran out of clients for window washing work. Wato, on the other hand, downplayed her family’s hospital. She did not dare to share her lineage of physicians and their prestige in Hokkaido. It would be too complicated to explain; not that the sergeant would inquire further. He was honorable and had a sense of privacy.

Wato moaned when she bit into her banana-strawberry nutella crepe. She had a penchant for sweets when it came to pastries. Shibata opted for a unique savory crepe, pizza-cheese. It was his mission to try every crepe on the menu at this vendor. They sat at a bench; tea cans were placed in the middle. Hanging out with Shibata was a fascinating experience. He was calm and collected when he was off duty, even when their conversation turned to Sherlock.

“Are you still investigating Watanuki-sensei’s case?”

“Not at all; since Reimon-san asked the woman, the workload got slightly lighter. I’m stuck with filing paperwork. That woman does not make it easy; I have to think creatively for justifying her actions. One time she wrapped a dismembered body in one of her coats.”

Wato took a double take. “A dismembered body?”

Shibata gravely nodded. “It was also Hermes.” As a freelancer, Wato thought Sherlock would not make much. This consulting detective was wealthy for some reason!

Sherlock was a crazy woman. Wato should have taken the layover to Sapporo. Or travel south to Fukuoka. Maybe even further to Naha.

On another note, she was impressed by his knowledge of fashion. “My second oldest sister is also a fashionista; she likes to post her outfits-of-the-day in the sibling group chat,” he also added.

They exchanged stories. Wato narrated her first meeting with the woman, then her second one at the library, following up to the hospital; it was horrible as she remembered. She even had Sherlock's book in her tote bag. (Either Reimon did not relay her message or the consulting detective was avoiding her. Wato thought it might be the latter because the inspector was honorable and compassionate.) Shibata gave her an awkward shoulder pat.

In return, the sergeant shared about his role in Sachiko’s Mustache. He was forced to go on his hands and knees while searching for an earring at the Gables Museum of Arts parking lot. Shibata was also humiliated when she randomly appeared at the office of the late art gallery director. She proved him wrong about mixing up keys (something about PR cylinder lock and U9).

"The only person that can tolerate her is Reimon-san. She has no friends within the Investigation Department. The inspector is the only person she gives a semblance of respect."

What a pity. "How long have those two known each other?"

A shrug. "Who knows? If you ask Reimon-san, he'll smile and give a shrug. Don't even think about asking Sherlock."

Their time was exhausted as Wato had to leave for the library. Shibata bade her farewell and wished her a good day during her shift.

***

Today's task was wheeling a full cart of books to the nonfiction section. She was content being alone; there was comfort in a methodical routine. Her male coworker walked passed her; he was also pushing a cart. When she finished organizing a shelf, the colleague approach her.

“Tachibana-san, do you want to have lunch with me today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	7. Chapter 7

Wato had not been on a lunch date since college. She felt like she was in her early twenties again; there were feelings of giddiness. Hence, she agreed immediately. Though, it would have been nice to have a love potion like she joked with Dr. Irikawa. Sharing a meal with a cute and tall guy, she always longed for moments like these. In her university days, Wato had opportunities for group dates arranged by her dorm mates and classmates, but she sacrificed them for her studies. Education was a priority for her. Now, she was done with school, possessed a medical license, employed, and had a roof over her head. Wato could finally work on her love life. Eating chicken salad with company was a start.

“Hemingway is known for his hard-boiled style,” he stated. “But his mother often dress him as a girl.”

Interesting; Wato never knew that late nineteenth-century American parents would dress their children like that. Did his mother secretly wanted another girl?

“So he did things to show his manliness, like boxing and spying. He had quite a life.”

Wato nodded in agreement. “He certainly did.” She learned more interesting facts about Hemingway. This was more fun than being enrolled in a literature class for the sake of general education credit. Her coworker sounded like Hemingway was a joy to read. She should ask him for recommendations. It was always good to expand her horizons by reading literature from other countries.

There was rapid heel clicking approaching her from behind. Suddenly, Wato was pushed to the side-almost falling off her seat-when the consulting detective forced herself to sit on Wato’s chair.

“Let’s go, it’s an emergency,” the freelancer ordered.

Wato was shocked. “How did you find me?” Honestly, how did Sherlock find her? Did she finally got Reimon message? This would be a great opportunity to return the book-she still had it in her trusty tote bag.

“The headhunter used me to determine the rest of the password,” Sherlock replied, effectively ignoring Wato’s question. Instead, the consulting detective was looking at the menu that was part of their table. Why does Wato even bother?

Yet, curiosity sparked. What did Sherlock meant by headhunter? That sounded like a dangerous person. Also, what password? Was it for a top secret and dangerous project?

“You cracked it?” Wato asked; not really understanding where the woman was going at. She was unsure if the decoding was a good thing or not.

“Yes, and she bugged the room.”

Who was she? Was the woman referring to the headhunter? Wato supposed this female headhunter possibly had the project in her possession. Furthermore, the headhunter tricked the consulting detective.

“We don’t have time. Help me find her.” Sherlock stood up and grabbed her cardigan that was resting on the chair. There was urgency in the freelancer’s voice. However, Wato was lost and remained seated. The woman hardly gave her context! All she knew was the misfortune of Dr. Watanuki and his research. Was it possible that this head hunter was connected to the head researcher? She and her coworker exchanged glances before returning their attention to the freelancer.

“Oh, this guy?” Sherlock took one glance at her coworker. “Don’t bother with him.” She released Wato’s cardigan from her right hand. What?

“Want to know why?” the woman challenged. She was now on his side. Given the way she sauntered behind him, Wato really did not want to know.

Suddenly, Wato could sense something bad would happen. “Stop it!” she protested. From her peripheral view, the other patrons and servers were now staring at their table. This could not be happening!

The freelancer ignored her. “Breton striped shirt, LL Bean Boots, and a Rolex Bubble Back,” the consulting detective rattled off as she grabbed both of his wrists. “It’s the same as Hemingway. A wannabe big shot writer, a narcissist.”

She released his wrist with force and moved over where she spotted his journal on the table. The woman picked up his writing utensil. “He has a fountain pen, but no calluses from writing,” she continued, tapping it on his right hand to emphasize her point. “He’s actually not a writer, a nobody. He’s an irresponsible half-assed part-timer.”

Sherlock crouched down and reached into his bag. “Reads women’s magazines to chat up women.” She flashed the cover to Wato’s face.

Then, she sniffed him from the side; he recoiled from the closeness. “Wears a fragrance popular with women.” The freelancer tossed the magazine back to him, retreated, and stood behind Wato.  
  
“He’s just looking for easy prey. He’s a gigolo. He targeted you because you’re a doctor,” she concluded so callously with her right hand pointing at him.The male colleague was stunned and used his magazine to cover up his shame. The accusations were brutal; he looked he wanted to cry.

Wato stood up, focusing the attention on her. “Enough already,” she asserted. Wato also wanted to cry; she was not the focus of the analysis, yet it hurt her all the same.This was unacceptable. The arrogance was too much and harmful. She recalled Shibata’s words. “Now I know why you have no friends.”

Wato returned Sherlock’s gaze. “Stop messing around with me. I’m not going,” she uttered with conviction.

The freelancer retained a deadpan expression. “Okay, suit yourself.” The woman took her leave by noisily shoving Wato’s chair to the side. Her gait sounded heavier.

The male colleague looked shock, totally blindsided by the analysis. Wato knew the feeling all too well. Part of her wondered how true the deduction was. “I need to deal with the new books. I’ll leave first,” he stammered. He quickly shot up from his chair and packed his belongings. He did not even giving Wato a chance to speak.

While making his escape, he found a waitress and said, “She’ll pay the bill.” The waitress acquiesced. The other diners returned to their meal.

Wato pulled up her chair and sat down. There was one thing for certain. That coworker was an irresponsible half-assed part-timer. That was a coward retreat and insincere, especially since he was the one that invited her to lunch!

It was done. Sherlock simultaneously soured a potential relationship and exposed his true colors. That was a puzzling paradox. However, this did not change her stance on the consulting detective. Wato did not want to be near or interact with that woman.

She picked up her fork and continued eating. Since Wato was stuck with paying for an overpriced chicken salad, she might as well enjoy it. Upon her second refill of water, Wato groaned. In the midst of her speech to the freelancer, she forgot to give back the book! There was no point for Wato to hope for the woman to retrieve the academic journal. Wato could place it the return bin once she returned to the library.

Describing the remaining library shift as awkward was an understatement.

The coworker completely avoided her. Wato was miffed that she was paying for both meals. He, in return, never bothered thanking her. He acted like he never knew her. It had to be a weird sight to the other coworkers. Wato had been working at the library for almost a month.

After her shift, Wato returned the book. It would have been a great opportunity to look up Sherlock’s real name, but it was not worth it anymore. Wato resolved to cut ties with that woman.

She was working a late shift at the yakiniku restaurant tonight. The break between two jobs gave her time to rest and send a quick text message to Shibata. Wato hoped she could see him again; she sorely needed another solidarity support session.

Speaking of sessions (as in therapy), she had an appointment on Tuesday with Dr. Irikawa. The counselor was posed for storytime. Wato hoped Dr. Irikawa was prepared.

***

Her Tuesday counseling session went well. Although, she spared her counselor about her Sherlock encounters. Wato wanted to save Dr. Irikawa from that particular grievance. There were some topics it was better to consult an acquaintance than a therapist. Dr. Irikawa congratulated her getting two more jobs, but cautioned Wato about not getting carried away. The counselor asked her to take care of her health and to continue these appointments. Wato had remained in Tokyo for about two months. Personally, she felt fine; she adjusted back to Japanese society smoothly. Yet, Dr. Irikawa remained careful. Wato nonetheless heeded the counselor’s advice and scheduled another with the receptionist.

Wato felt excited working at Gallery Gelder. She was collaborating with other staff members in taking down the art pieces. The director finalized the artists that were showcasing for the next two months. It was imperative to have the gallery space ready.

She wondered if one of the artists was the Middle East photographer. Wato pondered what the photographer was like. As a photographer, what did that person capture? Beauty? Horror? Hope? Despair? Humans that were caught up in misfortune? Or demons that thrived in a chaotic environment? She never thought it was possible to meet a non-medic that went abroad, especially to the Middle East. Current events made it scary to travel and portrayed a negative light to all who lived there. Wato entertained the thought of meeting the photographer. It would be great to share stories about their time abroad. Despite the hardships in Syria, Wato also had fond memories. Perhaps they could even bond over the cuisine. Middle Eastern eateries in Tokyo failed to do justice on iconic dishes.

There was a missed call waiting for her after Wato finished her shift. It was a voicemail from the library requesting an emergency staff meeting, taking place after business hours. Fortunately, the long weekend hours at the yakiniku restaurant gave her a two day break. Her schedule was clear for the evening. She was worried what the meeting was about.

It turned out her fellow librarians were wondering as well. Some asked the supervisor, but the supervisor could only shrug. The head librarian told him nothing.

The speculation died down once the head librarian entered the staff room. “Yoneyama-san is transferring to another library,” the head librarian announced, earning murmurs from the employees. They were all surprised.

Who? That name did not ring a bell with Wato.

“Until we find a replacement, we will have to adjust everyone’s schedule to accommodate his shift. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

The staff members complied in unison. Satisfied by the responses, the head librarian left. Then the murmuring became an uproar.

“Good riddance!” one of them shouted out, obviously feeling liberated. There were hums in agreement.

“It was about time that jerk left, he was doing a shitty job. He was all talk, barely helped out. He showed off whenever the boss was nearby or whenever we got a new employee,” another one articulated with contempt.

As frustrations were orally expressed, Wato turned to a coworker sitting next to her. “Excuse me, who is Yoneyama-san?”

“Yoneyama Toshio; he’s the one that proclaimed his true job was a writer. He often said that the library was a treasure of inspiration. He also professed his love for that American author. Not once did he ever talked about his writing aspirations. He never took anything seriously.”

That was his name? The one that expressed his admiration for Ernest Hemingway? The same guy that invited to lunch, only to ditch after he was ruthlessly exposed by that woman. He was unable to face the consequences of his action and incompetent to apologize or reimburse her. He avoided her and placed a request to transfer.

The disastrous lunch scene played in her mind. She wondered if the results would have been atrocious in the future. Perhaps she would have been humiliated more. Not to mention, she would most like be conned more into paying for their dates, especially for expensive eateries. Wato understood societal expectation of having the man providing the financial contribution for dates. Yet, that was not fair. It did not play out like the romance she had envisioned.

Even if she was so blind to see his true nature, it was still wrong of the consulting detective to barge in her life like that. That woman lacked propriety and sensitivity, but was full of egotism. A woman so pompous in her intelligence with criminal psychology, the Investigation Department Sector 1 was nothing without her consulting services. She knew it and even the inspector was aware of it as well. Only the sergeant was sensible to recognize the freelancer’s disposition.

She really hoped that Shibata would respond to her text at his earliest convenience.

Wato really needed a friend that understood her plight with Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	8. Chapter 8

“Thanks for accompanying me, Tachibana-san.”

“It’s not a problem, Akiko-san! I was surprised to see your text this morning,” Wato commented.

The two women were at the small grocery store in Wato’s neighborhood. Akiko announced her visit for buying some fresh produce. Her friend claimed that the vegetables and fruits were much cheaper here than the supermarket she frequented.

She was on a mission to take advantage of the produce prices offered. Not only there was an abundant of produce that were in season, but Health and Sports Day was coming up soon. This national holiday was created for celebrating the 1964 Summer Olympics that took place in Tokyo. It was a holiday that promoted healthy live styles. Airi’s school was organizing Sports Day, an event where all grade schoolers participated in many athletic activities. Since businesses would be closed, parents came to support their children. It became a special school day for families.

The mother refused to miss her child’s school event. She already planned to ditch her company’s gathering and encouraged her husband to decline the hospital’s team building activity. Dr. Mizuno had been faithfully attending his daughter’s Sports Day for the past three years. Nonetheless, he indulged on his wife’s wishes. Wato found it very sweet and hoped that will be her someday.

Since Health and Sports Day coincided with multiple seasonable crops, many markets took advantage of the holiday to promote a sale. Akiko had her eyes on buying the best produce for her family. Both father and daughter needed their strength to be healthy and to combat the seasonal change. Her husband had been quite busy with the influx of patients that required surgery. It baffled Akiko that many were related to crimes. Her daughter, on the other hand, was preparing diligently for Sports Day. Airi told her very little about her role, she wanted to keep it a surprise for her parents. The little girl begged her mother to invite Wato. Airi's favorite aunt happily accepted the invitation. 

The small store was well-stocked. There were so many fruits Akiko wanted to buy: kyoho, mikan, shimizu hakuto, fuji ringo, and nashi. The mother was fortunate that her daughter was not a picky eater. However, she did not want to spoil her daughter and cause a dent on the family monthly budget. Wato proposed the mother to buy shimizu hakuto and nashi; both fruits will soon not be available until next year’s harvest. Akiko was pleased that she brought Wato along.

While waiting for their turn at the cashier, Akiko gave her an update on Haitani's potential employment at Morthon Pharmacy. Wato was under the impression Haitani was done with that organization.

“Reiko-chan will applying for the head research assistant position. It was brought to the Human Resource’s attention that someone else used her identity to apply for an entry-level job. They had no idea until the police informed them.”

“That’s great for Haitani-san,” Wato said thoughtfully. “Did the Morthon executives offer a senior position to her out of guilt?”

Akiko’s face fell. Wato looked worried; she never seen her friend made that expression before. “The previous assistant was promoted,” she explained. “After Watanuki-sensei died five days ago.”

That was a shock to Wato. She could never forget the image of a frail body hooked to multiple ICU equipment. When Sherlock mentioned the prognosis, she knew there was a slim chance of full recovery. Repetitive shocks accumulating to 1,000 volts could lead to peripheral neuropathy-damage to his autonomic nerves lead to heart and lungs complication. Moreover, he was not given first aid immediately. It was difficult since he was a missing person for quite sometime.

She could not imagined how hard it was for Dr. Watanuki’s colleagues. Wato did not want to think about if something happened to Dr. Mizuno.

To lighten the gloomy mood, Akiko declared she wanted to eat the delicious curry again. The cafe was empty when they entered. There was a lone tv that played the latest daytime talk show. Although, the three occupants-the male owner and two female patrons-hardly paid attention to the latest gossip. The cafe owner recalled Wato and Akiko. In this visit, he made small talked with them. His favorite challenge was having his patrons guess the ingredients that made his signature curry and coffee special. For the past ten years, none of his customers came close. The two ladies were another tally for his winning streak.

Afterwards, Akiko asked about the public bath house in this neighborhood. The owner gave his review: it was not the luxury kind one would find in Tokyo Dome City. However, it was budget friendly with generous hours from early mornings to late nights. That excited Akiko. She intended to book a bath house day for the two of them.

Wato merely smiled as she brought her coffee to her lips. There was one thing she omitted in her story about Syria: the hospital bombing itself. It was well known that the hospital bombing prompted the medical team to come home. As a secret she intended to take to the grave, she was one of the many volunteers that got caught in the blast. It was fortuitous that she was not at the epicenter. Her upper back was marred with tiny scars and nearly healed bruises. However, there was an ugly, jagged scar near her right side. It was long; that scar began at the shoulder blades and trailed downwards. Unscathed volunteers assisted her in attending these wounds, but there was little they could do to make the scars fade.

She worked diligently every night to ensure her back was healing properly. She also took advantage of the early morning hours at the bath house. Wato could not allow anyone to see such side of her.

***

“Sorry for replying so late,” Shibata greeted when they met at the park. Like before, Wato sat on one side while the sergeant occupied the opposite end. Green tea cans separated them.

“It’s okay, Shibata-san. I know you are busy with work,” she reassured. Wato was quite understanding to his schedule. It touched her heart that he made an effort to meet up with her. No doubt it was the influence of having three older sisters. They taught him well to have good manners and be a decent person.

“Still, it must have been hard on you,” he commented. “Would you like to share what happened?”

The pent up anger burst through her barrier of composure. She passionately narrated her disastrous lunch date. Wato was furious at Sherlock’s egotism, why must that consulting detective meddle with her life? The male coworker made matters worse. Now that he transferred, everyone’s work shift was in disarray. Wato’s schedule was not drastically altered-the yakiniku restaurant made it difficult. The manager was quite firm on having a set schedule for all employees.

Shibata quietly drank his tea as Wato ranted. At the end of her tale, he got up to toss his empty can into the aluminum recycle bin. As he returned, the sergeant asked if she was hungry. “There’s an okonomiyaki eatery that’s offering a special for two,” he proposed. “It will be my treat. I know it won’t change anything, but I will like to give you a better lunch date.”

“Shibata-san,” she said in amazement. He was a true gentleman. The Shibatas truly raised a great son. She accepted his offer and they walked off to the eatery. The sergeant was an upstanding man she was glad to know in her new life in Tokyo. Deep down, Wato knew her feelings toward Shibata were purely platonic. Their personalities were compatible for friendship only. Although he never mentioned it, she could tell that he felt the same way. Thus began an easy comradeship between the two.

Wafting smell of sizzling okonomiyaki made her salivate. She missed eating fresh, savory pancakes. It was tempting to pick up the spatula and turn over the griddle cakes on the tabletop stove. However, such actions would lead to chastising by the servers. It was the staff members that cooked the food for the guests. Instead, she listened to Shibata and his updates on work.

“We solved Watanuki-sensei’s case recently,” he announced. “The report was long and a pain to write. Fortunately, the justification for eccentric behavior was more plausible.”

Wato sat straight up. She remembered that Akiko mentioned about his passing.

(Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him. Focus on the present. Focus on Shibata. Focus on the cooking okonomiyaki.)

Wato inquired if he was allowed to divulge such information, but Shibata dismissed those concerns. To him, Wato was part of the investigation-even though she was dragged into it by the freelancer. She had every right to know.

“Theculprits were a pair of sisters: Shiina Arisa and Yuma. The eldest sister, Arisa-san, infiltrated Morthon Pharmacy and stoled Watanuki-sensei’s research. She committed identity fraud: she pretended to be a new researcher. Once she had the data, she immediately resigned.”

Shiina Arisa; she recalled that name. That was the recruiter Haitani Reiko mentioned weeks ago. Wow. This was a complicated case! It seemed strange that a trivial event was part of an elaborate narrative. Nonetheless, she was glad that Haitani rightfully had her paperwork again and that Shiina fraud will get justice.

“What about her sister?”

The sergeant sighed. “The younger sister, Yuma-san, is a piece of work. Apathetic and ruthless, she made that woman look tame in comparison!”

Wato never thought it was possible that someone else could compete against Sherlock’s horrible demeanor.

“She…kidnapped Watanuki-sensei. Yuma-san had a degree in electrical engineering and worked for an electric company. She used her skills to brutally torture the head researcher.”

He paused and looked at Wato. There was a question he wanted to ask, but refused to utter it. Should he continue?

To Wato, Shiina Yuma was a monster. It made her sick that a person could do such horrible things. Both sisters had no right to abuse his research. Yuma committed a grave sin by inflicting pain on a hard working researcher. In spite of that, she was arrested. This case was over. Like Shibata said, she was part of this investigaton. She will listen to the end.

“His research had a two-layer password encryption. I don’t know the details, but somehow Sherlock meddled in their affairs. They used her to solve the first password,” he described.

So that’s what the freelancer meant! The headhunter was obviously Shiina Arisa. The sisters were clever enough to place a listening device as the consulting detective cracked the code. Wait. What about the second one? Surely the same trick must not have worked on Sherlock.

Shibata explained that the second password deciphering had a direct and aggressive approach. The day Wato was dragged to the noodle shop, Sherlock noticed a silver sedan had been following her along. Apparently Yuma had been stalking Sherlock, looking for leverage. The consulting detective shared her suspicions with Inspector Reimon. The freelancer deliberately left Wato behind. She arranged a car to pick her up at the hospital to drive back to the noodle shop. She lead Yuma to ultimately choose Dr. Watanuki’s assistant, Dr. Sanada.

Under the woman’s instructions, Shibata and other uniformed officers kept surveillance at Morthon Pharmacy. They watched Yuma tasered the assistant researcher when he was on his lunch break. After Yuma stowed the unconscious Dr. Sanada in the back of her sedan, the sergeant and the uniformed officers followed the perpetrator.

Meanwhile, Arisa invited Sherlock to a hotel room where they had a video call set up and Dr. Watanuki’s research. The research was stored in a laptop; it had a login screen, asking for a password. There was a timer underneath the text, purposely placing stress on the user to input it quickly as possible. Over the video call, Dr. Sanada was strapped to an electric chair with Yuma operating the machinery; the woman was not given a choice to decline.

The freelancer coordinated with Reimon to record their conversations beforehand. Sherlock’s monologue stalled enough time for Shibata’s team to intervene and save Dr. Sanada from the same fate as his superior. In addition, the password deduction proved to be an improvised lie-the consulting detective deliberately entered it incorrectly three times. It activated a failsafe program that permanently erased the head researcher’s work. Perhaps it was a fitting end; Dr. Watanuki sought to create something so dangerous. The repercussions were so great, he took immense lengths to prevent it falling into the wrong hands. He paid that price with his life. It was only right that the data also died with him.

By the time Shibata was done, the server approached their table. She flipped over the okonomiyaki and announced it was ready for consumption.

***

Wato set the utility lighter near the charcoal and clicked the switch. A small flame burst out. The grill was ready to go. “Here’s your order, the irodori set,” she said to the gentleman. She walked over to the lady. “Please let me know if you’d like more rice.” The female guest gave Wato a small smile. Taking a step back, she bowed and excused herself.

Wato returned to her cart and began to wheel it away from the aisle. Behind the divider, a group of businessmen walked it. Automatically, she greeted the incoming guests. Looking up, she saw a familiar face. “Ryota-niichan?” she exclaimed loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	9. Chapter 9

“Wato,” the businessman remarked in amazement. “Long time no see!”

It had been years since she last saw Ryota. The man before her was a childhood friend of the Tachibanas in Sapporo. He was a year older than Wato, but a year younger than her older sister. Due to closeness in age, the trio often played together. Ryota was a kind and sweet boy that always took care of Wato and her sister. He was the big brother she never had. Growing up, their mothers joke about which sister Ryota would married. Marrying either Tachibana sister was a win for both mothers.

However, the prospect of a Tachibana marriage never came into fruition.

Ryota’s father received a position to become a general manager at one of the largest retail stores in Sendai. Hence, the entire family moved away from Hokkaido. It was hard to keep in touch with him after he left. She and her sister were in high-school, vigorously preparing for college.

She did not hear much about his family until 2011. After graduating from college in Tokyo, he returned to Sendai and married his long-time girlfriend. That fateful Friday in March sparked untold tragedy. The tsunami claimed the lives of his entire family, his wife, and his in-law’s family. Ryota was spared due to a business trip in Kobe. Her heart ached for her brother figure. He was married for a month before he shortly became a widow. Wato was unable to reach him as she was in Tokyo at that time. Her older sister, blessed her, maintained email correspondence with him. She shared this information with Wato.

Wato started to email him monthly until she traveled to Syria. The past months of settling in Tokyo made her email correspondence a low priority. Now, she got to see him in person. Wato felt like she was a little girl again. All those years of separation melted away. Ryota looked great-successful and happy again. Wato, on the other hand, was getting there. She knew her fated lied with Tokyo. She will get her happy ending.

“Aren’t you a doctor?” he kindly asked.

“I quit.” This was the first time she told someone associated to her past from Sapporo. It felt liberating to say that. Perhaps it was because she did not tell her family.

“Really? Anyway, you seem to be doing well.” Ryota seemed surprised but he did not dwell on it.

“You too; you got remarried, right?” She recalled that her sister mentioned it long ago.

He trailed off. “Yeah…”

Uh oh, something was bothering him. Ryota had gone through so much suffering, yet he still retain his childhood mannerisms. Her old habit kicked in again. “What’s the matter?”

“Tachibana-san!” her manager reprimanded.

Both Ryota and Wato looked at their surroundings, the patrons closest to them and his business associates looked at them weirdly. They bowed their apologies for disturbing the others.

“We’ll have to catch up sometime,” he said quickly. Ryota reached into his coat for a business card case. He pulled out his business card and wrote his personal cell number. He joined his colleagues after giving it to her.

Wato safely tucked it in her kimono and went back to work. She became more conscientious about her efforts in serving the customers. The manager was closely watching her.

***

Ryota’s expression greatly worried her. He had a sensitive soul and withdrawn nature. She imagined it augmented after the earthquake. However, she was glad he had a new family. There was no doubt that it raised his spirits. Though, he seemed trouble. Hence, she texted him and proposed to set up a calling session or meet up for a quick bite. For Wato, he was her big brother. As childhood buddies and family friends, they looked out and cared for each other.

Ryota texted her the next morning, he asked to meet at a cafe. It did not take long to coordinate a meeting time-he was quite flexible to accommodate Wato’s part-time shifts. He promptly gave Wato the address. She was not scheduled to work in the library today. However, her morning and evening hours will be preoccupied with Gallery Gelder and the yakiniku restaurant respectively. Meeting with Ryota was squeezed in her short afternoon break.

The gallery was busier than ever. The previous artworks were taken down and the new ones were being place on display. Five artists will be featured for next two months-one of them was the Middle Eastern photographer. Only one of the featured artist stopped by to direct the staff members how he wanted his work to be laid out. It was frustrating since this artist could not make up his mind and was quite bossy to the poor staffers that were doing their best to accommodate. Wato was constantly questioning this artist’s maturity as she gently set up the installation pieces.

Working at Gallery Gelder passed by at a blink of an eye. Wato almost missed signing out of her shift had it not been for the giant analog clock at the entrance. She nearly sprinted out of the building, feeling relieved to get away from work. All she had to do was take the subway to commute.

When Ryota asked to meet at a cafe, Wato should have expected something like this. Her commute took her to Akihabara. She was at Moff-Rell, a rabbit cafe. She and Ryota were currently reading a long consent form about playing with the rabbits. To Wato’s relief, Ryota chose the thirty-minute session.

After signing, they were given waterproof aprons and placed orders for coffee. Wato followed Ryota into a playroom. There were three rabbits running around. Ryota smiled brightly as he crouched down and offered the complimentary rabbit food to Spica, a Netherland Dwarf with white fur. Spica was outgoing and immediately accepted the food offered.

Watching Ryota interacting with the animals brought back childhood memories. He always found comfort in the presence of animals whenever he was feeling stress or sad. Given that he hinted about troubles in his marriage life, Wato suspected he was truly bothered. Since they will only be here for thirty minutes and she will be receiving a coffee drink, Wato will allow Ryota to unwind. She will wait until her big brother was ready to talk. In the mean time, she was playing with Kokoro, another Netherland Dwarf with gray fur.

***

“Wato, thanks for accompanying me.”

“Of course, Niichan.”

Finally, they were at a proper eating establishment. The coffee she had earlier did not satiate her hunger. After their rabbit session, Ryota took her to a ramen shop that specialized in Miso Ramen, a specialty of Hokkaido. They were sitting at the bar, waiting for the chefs to prepare their order.

“As you know, the rabbit cafe was for my sake,” he confessed. “The past two weeks have been troubling for me.”

Wato pleaded him to tell her what happened. She could not bear her dearest childhood friend and big brother to suffer like this.

Ryota began that he remarried in 2013; his second wife was Wakasugi Sakura. For the marriage registration paperwork, he opted to take his wife’s last name and chose to live with his mother-in-law. In their five years of marriage, they have a five-year old son called Daiki and a five month old daughter named Wakana.

It filled Wato’s heart with warmth that Ryota created a new family. She was sure that his parents and first wife were proud of him. Wato kept quiet as he talked more about his family life.

Then, Ryota’s face fell when he began talking about the past two weeks. It was late at night, he was no stranger to Wakana’s cries disturbing the peace. His wife offered to placate their daughter, allowing him to sleep. He was startled when he heard his mother-in-law’s bloodcurdling scream. Ryota scrambled to his feet when his name was called.

“Sakura was crouching over, she bit Wakana’s arm and drank her blood. Fortunately, the baby was all right,” he confided.

Wato gasped. She shuddered at the mental image of a mother with blood smeared on her mouth. It had to be a ghastly sight. “I’m glad Wakana-chan is okay. How is Sakura-san?”

“My wife has been bedridden ever since. I have no idea why she bit the baby. My mother-in-law has blamed supernatural events.”

She stood straight up. “Supernatural?” Wato squeaked. Growing up, she was never fond of occult or horror stories-her older sister loved them for some reason. She always read ghost stories out loud during the rainy season in the summer.

Ryota nodded. “She thinks my wife is possessed by a cursed bat and that she’s turned into a vampire.”

What? A vampire?

Apparently, the Wakasugi ancestors killed all the bats in the barn. His mother-in-law claimed that their vengeful spirits have cursed Sakura.

Wato understood why Ryota was so troubled. The husband nor mother-in-law could not rationally understand Sakura’s bizarre behavior. Why did she suck Wakana’s blood?

That question stumped Wato. It seemed like it was an impossible problem.

Wait. Impossible problem…that’s it!

She recalled that Haitani sought out the urban legend person, the one that was able to solve various problems. All she needed to do was ask Haitani for the contact information. She could ask Akiko this weekend at Airi’s Sports Day.

***

“Morning, Tachibana-kun!”

“Good morning, sensei!” Wato chirped as she met Dr. Mizuno and Akiko at the school entrance. It was early in the morning, but the school grounds were packed with parents and relatives. The excitement energy reminded her of the past Sports Days she attended. It was almost a never-ending ritual since she had three younger sisters. Akiko practically sprinted to a hill with trees, she had her eye on staking a shady spot. Both surgeon and student followed after the mother, carrying blankets, drinks, and huge bentos.

After setting up their spot, Wato and Dr. Mizuno made small talk. Akiko, on the other hand, was testing out her camera. She wanted to record Airi’s glory. Dr. Mizuno was in charge of taking photos, and Wato was the backup photographer. All talking ceased when the opening ceremonies began with the Japanese and school flag being raised. Wato stood up for the national anthem and politely listened to numerous speeches made by the principal, the senior teacher, the student council president, and town official that walked on stage.

When formalities were over, grade schoolers flooded the athletic field. They were decked out in gym uniforms and hats, red and white to indicated which team. The red team stood on one side and the white team was on the other. The children quickly finished stretching and last minute warmups. Shortly afterwards, they began to lineup. It was time for calisthenics. Akiko swiftly spotted her daughter and ready her camera. Before she pressed the record button, she hissed at her husband and friend to ready their phone cameras. She also pointed where Airi was standing; she was wearing a white hat. The trio were ready when the music started playing. Wato focused her camera at Airi’s profile and tapped on the screen. It was the first of many shots she took today.

***

At lunch time, Airi reunited with her parents and aunt. The girl squealed when she saw Wato and immediately ran to her side. Both parents chuckled at the affection and took pictures of the two together. After posing, Airi stayed by Wato’s side as they ate the bentos Akiko and Dr. Mizuno made. Light heart chatter and laughter filled the air. The three adults complimented on Airi’s performance in the opening ceremony, track, and cheer.

Wato held her breath as the teachers were finishing tallying the final points for the red and white team. She fervently hoped the white team will win. Like her, Akiko was waiting in suspense. The surgeon, on the other hand, was amused by his wife and student. He opted to record the final moments, leaving Akiko’s hands free for enthusiastic cheering.

“The winner of the 2018 Undokai is the white team!” A trophy was given to the white team student leaders.

Cheers from students and loud clapping from the spectators erupted throughout the athletic field. Afterwards, the principal went on the podium and gave his closing remarks. The flags were lowered after the principal finished his speech. The students were dismissed and they ran to their family. Everyone worked together to clean up the school grounds. For Wato, this was a pleasant and fun way to spend a Saturday. The energetic atmosphere brought a wave of nostalgia. She missed the carefree days when her parents and sisters bonded at the school event. It was the best family moment.

Speaking of families…there was the Wakasugi kin.

Ryota’s son was in kindergarten, this would be his first Sports Day. Wato frowned, thinking how cruel it was for Daiki not having his whole family supporting him. There was no one to blame but the curse. If prolonged, the family would surely be driven apart. She could not let that happen to Ryota, not when it took him five years to gain a new family. He deserved so much happiness in his life.

The only one that could help with this unusual problem was the urban legend person. Given that Sports Day was over, now it was a good time to ask Akiko.

Her friend happily agreed to ask Haitani for the contact information. It did not take Wato long to receive a picture of the business card. She promptly sent it to her big brother figure. That night, she kept staring at the photo. Wato knew she seen it before, but could not place it where.

***

Wato was waiting at the cafe (a bakery this time) with Ryota. Two days after she sent him the contact information, he responded that he called the urban legend person. Due to his work schedule, it was decided to meet at an eatery not far from his office. Wato was asked to come for moral support. She immediately accepted his invite and made arrangements with a coworker to cover her shift.

Since they were early, both opted for hot green tea to calm their nerves. Unfortunately, this meant a quick restroom break. Ryota allowed her to go first. He immediately excused himself once she returned. Wato wondered what this urban legend person was like. According to Ryota, the person who answered his call had a pleasant, feminine voice.

Wato picked up her cup, there was a little bit of tea left. She placed it in her mouth when the cafe automatic doors open. From her line of sight, there was a tall woman wearing a black leather bomber jacket entering the cafe with hands in her pocket. She looked around before turning her head to the left (the same direction where Wato was at). She narrowed her eyes when she made contact with Wato and hasten her pace.

Wato almost choked on her tea when the woman stood beside her. It was so sudden! Wato got a better look: it was the consulting detective.

“Miss…Sherlock,” she sputtered. Wato was not even sure why she said that in English. This was even her first time saying Sherlock’s name. Did anyone else used honorifics when addressing the freelancer?

“What’s with your clothes? From our previous engagements, I was hoping there was more to your wardrobe.”

Huh? Honestly, the first question Wato should ask why was the consulting detective here. She and Ryota were waiting for the urban legend person. Not an intellectual woman with asinine social skills!

“Been wearing them since college?” the woman pressed.

“I like them,” Wato countered. Why were they bickering now? This was for Ryota! Focus!

“All you care about is comfort, no fashion sense. A Hermes coat would suit you.”

Wato inwardly shuddered, remembering Shibata’s words about a dismembered victim wrapped up in high fashion. “Don’t tell me what to wear!” she snapped. Wearing something drenched in blood was not appealing.

Sherlock placed her hand in front of Wato and closed her eyes. “I can’t think when my aesthetic sense is disturbed.”

Wato huffed. “Forget about how I look. My childhood friend and I have an appointment. Leave us alone.”

On cue, Ryota returned to the table. The freelancer redirected her attention to him.“Wakasugi Ryota,” she stated.

“Yes, that’s me,” he confirmed. “You must be…”  
  
“Sherlock,” the woman interrupted. “You called me last week about a case with vampires.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	10. Chapter 10

Wato was quiet as Ryota recapped his family’s situation. It was hard to believe that Sherlock, the consulting detective that worked as a freelancer for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department was also the urban legend person. How could this be? There was so many questions Wato had for the woman, but she knew it would be unanswered. Besides, this was for Ryota. Her big brother had a case, not her.

From sitting on the opposite end of the freelancer, it was peculiar to see her so focus. She did not resort to childish antics like grabbing a customer’s coffee cup and flinging it at Ryota’s face. Instead, she remained silent and patiently listened.

When he was done talking, Wato intervened. “Please find out why Sakura-san drank Wakana-chan’s blood.” She had always done her best to remain assertive before the freelancer. Wato took pride in being a headstrong woman. Her implore shattered that public persona she showcased to Sherlock. On a subconscious level, it was humiliating. However, this was for Ryota’s sake. Wato needed to be the pillar support for her childhood friend and the initiator to have the freelancer onboard.

“What if she’s actually been cursed…” Wato trailed off. She was definitely not a fan of the occult.

“This is absurd.”

Wato and her brother looked at the woman with puzzled expressions on their faces.

Sherlock scoffed. “Mad bats, curses, vampires? That is unscientific nonsense.”

That was why they were considered the supernatural. The consulting detective must have an aversion to all irrational topics.

“Only one vampire bat species feeds on blood. They’re not found in Japan,” Sherlock corrected. “Your ancestor probably killed house bats. Their spirits could only make her hang upside down.” 

The freelancer sniggered, amused by the imagery she conjured in her mind. “Making her drink blood is utterly ridiculous.”

“Then why did she drink Wakana-chan’s blood?” Wato challenged. There was no doubt that she was telling the truth about bat species, but it did not solve or offer an explanation to the Wakasugi Family Curse.

“There must be another reason,” the consulting detective retorted.

“Had Sakura-san been acting strangely before?” Wato asked, redirecting her attention to Ryota.

He shook his head. “Not that I noticed.”

“Is your wife at home?” Sherlock interjected.

“Yes, Sakura has been bedridden and isolated for two weeks. My mother-in-law has been keeping Wakana away from her,” he answered.

The consulting detective smirked. “Let’s go then.”

The woman decided to accept his case. Wato breathed in relief, happy there was interest. Although that meant she was coming along. Someone had to safeguard the family from the freelancer’s ill-mannered temperament.

***

Ryota walked out first, he offered to give Wato and Sherlock a ride to his home. Wato objected, stating that he could make arrangements for the consulting detective to visit at the family’s convenience. It was simply rude for the freelancer to intrude as she pleased. 

Her childhood friend dismissed those concerns. He already made arrangements to leave early from the office. For him, the consulting detective solving this case efficiently was critical for his family to resume their normal lives again. Wato could not argue against that.

She and the woman were standing by the curb, waiting for Ryota’s car to emerge from the underground parking lot. Being next to the freelancer in silence was quite nerve wracking. Even time seemed to pass slowly.

“So, Sherlock-san,” Wato began.

“Call me Sherlock. There’s no need for honorifics,“ Sherlock countered curtly. That was quite bold to not use formalities when addressing the consulting detective. It would seem that her rudeness was empowered by the lack of honorifics.

“I didn’t think you would take civilian cases. I thought you primarily worked with homicide.” The two cases she knew-Sachiko's Mustache and the drug research-had a casualty. Wato surmised the consulting detective's work was linked to murder incidents. After all, she had clearance under Inspector Reimon’s authority.

“Of course you wouldn’t think,” she replied with haughtiness. “Japan has one of the lowest crime rate in the world; murders are very rare. I am not always called for every investigation that takes place. Reimon summons me for only complex ones. Those happen to have a puzzling homicide. When I’m not with the Metropolitan Police Department, I need to pass the time somehow and make an income.”

The conceit tone was starting to upset Wato. This woman seemed so determine to continue her terrible impression. All it kept doing was giving Wato a reason to have a poor opinion. She wished Ryota would hurry up; a traffic jam had to be preventing him to resurface.

“Besides, Reimon hands out my business cards to civilians. This is how my consulting services are spread.” The consulting detective stared at Wato. “You should have received one as well.”

“Eh? When?” Wato took a step back in shock and stared back with an incredulous look in her eyes.

“Almost three months ago at the Hotel New Kamata gathering,” the woman continued. “I’m sure it’s still tucked in that clutch of yours.”

Wato will neither confirm nor deny. That clutch remained untouched when she stored it in her closet. Now she knew why the text picture looked so familiar. The inspector must have given one to Haitani when she filed a missing item report.

Much to Wato’s relief, her brother  _finally_ pulled up. Much to her dismay, the freelancer was a step quicker to reach the door handle. She swung it open and sat in the passenger seat. Wato resigned to sit in the back. The drive towards the Wakasugi home had the radio playing soft rock.

***

The Wakasugi manor was quite impressive. It was a traditional house with an expansive yard. Along the entrance way, there was a stream that surrounded the property. Wato idly wondered if there was a pond nearby and if there was fish swimming.

No wonder why he chose to take the Wakasugi surname and moved in. If Wato was in her childhood friend’s position, she would gladly give up her last name!

Shortly after Ryota parked his car and turned off the ignition, Sherlock already had her seat belt off and opened the door.

“You can’t just,” Wato protested. The car door was already shut. She looked at her childhood friend, who was also shocked. “Sorry, she’s a bit unusual.” They scrambled to unbuckle their seat belts.

“It’s this way.” He pointed as they trekked across the front yard. The closer they got to the house, there was a strange noise.

“What’s that?” Wato asked. It sounded like a moan. The consulting detective, on the other hand, laughed. It seemed comical to her.

The freelancer pointed at the main house. “In there?” No response was given, but that encouraged Sherlock to walk ahead. Once again, Wato and Ryota trailed behind, calling out for her to slow down.

***

“Sources of our wisdom and life. Luhu-sama, Luhu-sama! May all be as you desired. Luhu-sama, Luhu-sama!”

Wato never expected a purification service upon entering the household. In the separate room dedicated to praying to the ancestors, there were three people kneeling. Ahead, the an was adorned with shinsen sitting on the sanbo. Even the onuki and onusa were on the offering table. To the side, there was a taiko.

The one leading the prayers (and the source of the wailing) was a female Shinto priest. She was wearing an eboshi and a white haori over her priest garb. Behind her was an older woman and a young boy. The woman was also wearing a haori and clutching prayer beads, following along with the priest. She was praying intensely. The child, on the other hand, was wearing his street clothes. He paid no heed to the ceremony. He was interested in playing with the toys in his hands. 

“We’ll do everything that Luhu-sama desires!” the priest cried out. “Luhu-sama! Luhu-sama!”

Ryota approached the praying older woman and kneeled. “Okaasan,” Ryota whispered. His mother-in-law ignored him. “Okaasan!” he called out again. That got her attention. “What’s with the exorcism?”

The priest seemed to be unaware of the interruption. She kept chanting the great Luhu’s name.

“Ignoring the curse angered the evil spirits,” the Wakasugi matriarch answered.

“Angry spirits,” Wato whimpered. She recalled the supernatural mangas her sister was fond of. There was a series where a teenage onmyoji from a famous clan lived in Tokyo and spent his days exorcising malevolent spirits that preyed upon civilians. One story arc was about a girl that tried to curse a corporate executive by sacrificing her dog to summon an inukami. It ended badly and that throughly creeped out Wato. Automatically, she clutched to Sherlock’s arm.

The consulting detective forcibly removed Wato’s grasp and gave her an annoyed look.

Ryota's mother-in-law noticed her and the freelancer. The older woman narrowed her eyes. “Who are they?”

“Wato, my childhood buddy and her friend,” he responded.

“We’re not friends,” the woman countered, then she walked closer to the an.

Wato had to agree they were not friends. There was unspoken animosity. It was a matchmake in hell. It would be apt to call them soul haters; two people fated to be adversaries. The universe kept spiting her, destiny will not allow her to be free from Sherlock’s clutches. That woman was like the devil. “She’s a consulting detective,” Wato added.

“I want her to look into Sakura’s incident,” her childhood friend explained.

“I see,” the matriarch acknowledged flatly. “Do what you want.” She went back to praying. Ryota was dismissed.

The service was interrupted when Sherlock smacked the taiko. Wato wanted to slapped herself. She was so embarrassed with her association to that woman.

***

The chanting stopped afterwards. The mother-in-law, Wakasugi Shizue, lead the priest around her house. The priest was planting ofuda on the doorways. Ryota offered green tea and snacks before the duo started investigating. The little boy moved into the family room, continuing to play with his toys. Not far from them was a crib. There was a little girl sleeping inside; that had to be Wakana. That meant the other child was Ryota’s eldest.

“That’s my son, Daiki,” her brother introduced. Wato's suspicions were confirmed. She focused on the boy. “Daiki, come say hello.” His son glanced upwards then looked down.

“I’m sorry,” Ryota apologized. “He’s been like that since the baby was born.” He was feeling embarrassed about the boy's lack of manners. Wato did not mind. He was a five year old troubled by his unstable family environment. His grandmother was occupied with exorcisms, his father was worried and tried to keep a semblance of normality, and his mother was notably absent. Nobody was really paying attention to Daiki. 

The woman did not comment and finished her tea before standing up. Wato scarfed her snack and almost choked on her tea. She needed to finish before the investigation commenced.

Wato shadowed the freelancer. She hated every minute of it, but it would be worse if the consulting detective wandered around without supervision. They were at the entrance of bedroom where Sakura was at.

The shoji slid open. “Excuse me,” Wato called out as Sherlock stepped in. It was a dark room. The curtains were closed, effectively blocking out the sunlight. In the middle, there was a futon with the wife lying on there. Sakura was conscious, but had a morose expression on her face. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling, there was no indication of reacting to their presence.

Feeling self-conscious about intruding a personal space, Wato opted to stay outside while the woman roamed around. Unfortunately, that lead to nosy activities. Closets and drawers were swiftly opened. “Don’t open them!” She chided the freelancer and walked in to close them.

Soon as she finished closing the closet doors, the camera shutter went off. “No photos either!” Then Wato addressed Sakura. “Excuse her, she has no manners.” That was the understatement of the twenty-first century, but Wato possessed propriety.

The consulting detective stood next to the futon, paying attention to her phone. “Why did you bite your own child?”

“I’m sorry,” she spoke up, surprising Wato. “I don’t remember anything about it.” It was understandable, given it was an occult incident.

Another photo was snapped. “Why don’t you examine the vampire?”

“Don’t call her that!” Wato called out to Sherlock’s behavior. The consulting detective ignored her and exited the room. Seeing how that was futile, Wato went on her knees and tended to Sakura. Wato may no longer work in health care, but she could not ignore a patient in need, even if one was inflicted by the supernatural. She fixed the bedding and neatly folded Sakura's arms and hands.

“I can’t see Wakana, can I?” she forlornly asked. It was so difficult for a mother to be separated from her child.

“You’ll see her soon,” Wato reassured. She vehemently disproved of the woman’s idiosyncrasy, yet she felt the freelancer will solve the case. Wato already listened to the accounts of Reimon and Shibata. Now, it was her turn to see it with her own eyes and experience it first-hand. “For now, please rest.”

“Wakana,” Ryota’s wife whimpered. “She was born with a heart condition. I want to be with her as much as possible.” She turned her head. “How’s Daiki doing?”

Wato paused, thinking about how to answer this. He was afflicted by this incident and Wakana’s birth. Yet, she refused to be that blunt to Sakura. The mother was already at odds with her family and worried sick about her daughter. “I saw him playing by himself earlier. He seemed a bit down.”

“Is that so?” Sakura replied. There was a pensive look on her face.

Their conversation stopped short. Wato was unsure on how to continue.

Suddenly, Wato heard Ryota called out: “Are you leaving already, Sherlock-san?”

What the heck? What did that woman do? Wato quickly excused herself.

She jogged to the entrance. Her brother was kneeling, with a pained expression on his face. The consulting detective was putting on her boots. “What? You’re leaving?” Wato exclaimed. The freelancer surely was not done! That investigation seemed to pass by far too quickly. Why was she cutting it so short?

“He told me to leave,” Sherlock responded coldly.

“Who did?” Wato asked. Ryota followed up with another apology and bow.

Behind her, Daiki walked to the entranceway. The woman scowled at the boy. Wato guessed what happened between the child and the adult. The freelancer done something to upset Ryota’s son. She had to admit, he had more guts than her to drive the consulting detective away.

“Sorry, Daiki-kun, she’s weird.” Wow, it felt so good to say that out loud. It did not matter if the woman was right there. It was the truth after all. The child never responded, he was putting on his sneakers.

That invigorated Sherlock to put on her heel boots faster. Was she trying to do a shoe race with a five-year old? “Sherlock, wait!” Wato had to slip her shoes on and catch up with the woman.

Daiki obviously won the contest. He ran out of his house with Ryota calling after him.

“He’s a brat. Good riddance,” the freelancer remarked darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	11. Chapter 11

“So you’re bad with kids?” Wato slyly asked. She was trailing behind Sherlock. Although the freelancer definitely embarrassed herself in front of the Wakasugis, Wato did get useful intelligence.

The woman was horrible with children. It seemed fitting: a childish, overgrown female adult cannot stand kids that were acting their age. With a weakness like that, Wato should take Airi out for ice cream sometime. The girl will surely repel the consulting detective that dared to approach her.

“No, I just hate them.” It was the same difference. Children were good at distinguishing good and bad personalities. It was a great to see a confirmation for Wato’s judgement.

Morbid curiosity bubbled up. “Why do you hate them?”

She stopped walking. “They’re incapable of logical thinking.” The freelancer shuddered, horrified by that thought.

Seriously? That was it? Surely the consulting detective went through that phase in her formative years. Growing up definitely fostered a terrible personality. Whoever Sherlock’s family was, they must be saints or bodhisattvas to put up with such misery.

Or maybe it was a dysfunctional family that did not teach discipline and allowed her to grow up as an unruly adult. Perhaps it was fitting that the woman could not handle the same antics she inflicted on others.

“Of course, because _they’re_ _kids_ ,” Wato argued. She and her older sister were literally second parents to their three younger sisters. Wato very well knew the emotional and mental maturity of children at that age. In Daiki’s case, it was more serious than a five-year old being jealous of his baby sister.

The consulting detective darted her head to the left, index finger pointing in the same direction. “Look, there he goes,” she spat.

Following Sherlock’s gaze, Wato saw Daiki walking off. Where was he going? Wato had a soft spot for children. That feeling amplified during her time in Syria. Ryota’s son may not be living in a brutal environment, but the danger was subtle and lurking in the shadows. She had to make sure he was all right.

They walked out to the main entranceway (with Wato leading) before she veered off to the left, the same direction as Daiki.

“Hey,” the freelancer called out. Wato ignored her, she needed to follow the young boy.

Wato made sure to keep her distance from him. The consulting detective also trailed behind, there was a faint clicking of her heel boots. The child seemed to be unaware of two people following him. He seemed focused on reaching his destination.

It was a twenty-minute walk to a local shrine. It was small and very plain-there was no impressive Komainu, ema, or omikuji to attract visitors. Since it was not far from the Wakasugi manor, this must be where the priest came from. Wato idly wondered if the locals were even weirded out by this priest.

Daiki walked towards a massha and crouched. “See? He’s a good kid,” Wato insisted. “He’s probably praying for his mom’s recovery.”

“Or he’s stealing coins,” she sneered. "I need to consider every possibility." Seriously? That was crazy! Ryota’s son was nowhere near the offering box! Plus, there had to be a miko nearby to watch for any misconduct on shrine grounds. That woman truly had a poor opinion on children. It was on par with Wato's feelings towards the consulting detective.

To her left, Sherlock fished out her phone. There was a picture of her holding a box. “Find out which temple sells this incense.”

What?

“It’s from Wakasugi Sakura’s room. Maybe she regularly visits a grave.”

Wato failed to see how this was relevant to the case. Ryota’s wife was a suspect subject for the investigation, but there were ethical limits with scrutinizing. This seemed too private for them to meddle.

“You expect me to find the temple based on that?” Why was Wato stuck doing the leg work? She was a busy person with three jobs!

“You want to solve the case, don’t you?” Sherlock challenged.

Did she? She was interested in conflict resolution for Ryota’s sake. Her brother did not need anymore heartbreaking tragedies in his life. Plus, Daiki and Wakana need a secure home life with both parents. The small family of four also did not need to be subjected to any Luhu worship by the grandmother.

Underneath that concern was a spirit of inquiry. So far, Wato had indirect encounters with every investigation the woman was involved in. She did declare she wanted the truth (even if it was for a different context).

“I’ll send you the photo.”

Huh? Wato never affirmed out loud. Moreover, the consulting detective did not have Wato’s cell phone number. She did not even want to share it.

Without waiting for a reply, Sherlock stood close to Wato with her phone out.

She was initially puzzled by the reaction until there was a beep from the freelancer’s phone. Sherlock withdrew her phone and began typing. Shortly afterwards, Wato’s phone chimed with an incoming text message. Looking at the new notification, it suddenly dawned on her. That woman hijacked her phone! Was Wato now in an espionage reality? 

Sherlock used a software to do a cellphone pairing. Normally it was for cloning phones; the hijacker gained access to emails, texts, voicemails, and calls. It can even be utilized to obtain the phone number and accompanied email address. Wato never imagined such application would exist, it was normally a fictional tool in spy shows. Wato's third sister was to blame for her extensive knowledge of espionage and getting Wato into that American crime and sci-fi thriller television series about surveillance.

She could imagine Shibata rolling his eyes. Hopefully he will not be involved with this case. The sergeant deserved to be spared from writing anomalous and morally ambiguous investigation tactics in his reports.

It was a good thing Wato hardly used her cell phone and frequently cleaned out her inbox. Now she had to be more careful or get a new phone all together.

***

Since she was not given a deadline, Wato delayed her trip to visit the temples. She cleared her schedule for the library and yakiniku restaurant, but not the gallery. It was almost time for her to work. Wato gave herself enough leeway to commute. She ended up being an hour early before her shift.

At the cafe next door, she sat at the bar. Her phone was in her hands; there was a blank text message addressed to Ryota. There were so many things she should say to her big brother. If she had known it was Sherlock, Wato could have warned him. It pained her that she was becoming someone associated with that consulting detective.

Why did she feel responsible for the woman’s mess? They were nowhere near associates, let alone friends.

Why was there an instinct to demonstrate politeness for others that did not receive any from the freelancer? Sherlock was a grown woman that must own up to her actions and behaviors.

Above all, why did it seemed so inevitable for the consulting detective to be a new constant in her life? What can she do to break away from such chains?

Wato chided herself for thinking such nonsense with destiny. She was not only one suffering-there was Shibata who had it so much worse. The poor sergeant was at the mercy of the consulting detective. It was not like he could protest, Reimon was his immediate supervisor. The freelancer received political support from the inspector. He must possessed strong negotiation skills to placate his superiors of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.

Her phone vibrated with an alarm. She needed to clock in within thirty minutes. With her phone in hand, she trekked out of the cafe and entered the side door for employees.

At the staff room, Wato quickly typed a brief message to her childhood friend before securing her belongings in the locker. She hoped Ryota was okay and Daiki returned safely.

***

At five in the morning, she was the first guest the bath house owner received. The elderly lady nodded her greeting when she opened the entrance doors. Wato flashed her a small smile and paid the entrance fee before ducking to the shoe locker. Fortunately the fee was not much; it was a special deal since the apartment complex lacked a shower space.

One of the best things about the bath house-aside from business hours-was the discretion. The owner never asked about why Wato was here everyday at an unusual time. The only greeting the older lady said was wishing Wato a good day when she was leaving. She only spent an hour there before Wato started her day.

Wato kept stroking her jagged scar as she vigorously washed her hair and skin. Being the sole bather had its perks. No unwanted stares or invasive questions from other women. She noted that her back was slowly becoming smooth. A glance of her naked frame in the mirror also confirmed her speculations. Soon, all the scabs will be brushed away, leaving a pink hue on her fair skin. Her body will heal, the pink will become white; it will camouflage.

In the future, her back will be a mural for a forgotten incident.

Yet the memory will engraved into the recollection of one.

It made her feel disgusted about thinking about it. Or anything that can be a vague reference to it. The intrusion was unwelcome, she did not need such negativity in her life.

Wato turned on the faucet to let the warm water flow into the small bin. She waited until the water filled up halfway before twisting the knob to stop the water. Using both hands, she lifted the bin above her head and flipped it over.

The cascade plummeted with such rush. Her head-the first one in contact-was slammed with the aquatic onslaught.

Good.

Let it lock away the abhorrent emotions and feelings that threatened to resurface.

She stared at the watery appearance before her. Her bangs and hair strands clung to her forehead and cheeks. A cheap knock off of the vengeful ghost from her eldest sister’s favorite novel and film series. (Why did her sisters have weird taste? The eldest loved horror while the third was enamored by spy thrillers. The youngest two loved ice cream and were boy crazy.)

Regardless, she was now throughly clean. Wato gathered her personal bathing belongings as she moved from the faucets to the bath tubs. She gently lowered herself into the tub and sighed in relief as the warmer temperature soothed her body.

Wato deserved it from a noisy fiasco early this morning. Around 2:00 am, teenagers from her neighborhood were playing with fireworks. It was a combination of  bottle rockets, firecrackers, and Roman Candles. Normally consumer fireworks were not a problem-as long it was in an open space. However, these were not normal circumstances.

It was October, a very unusual time to light fireworks. The Hanabi season that took place between July and August already passed. Still, that did not deter teenagers to purchase fireworks in large quantities. At least 10,000 units were fired early morning. The loud noise spooked sleepy neighbors. Children cried from the loud noise, dogs madly barked, and parents shouted in alarm. The commotion attracted the police’s attentions. Sirens wailed as officers drove to the location.

Wato was not a heavy sleeper. She was huddled underneath her blankets and curled into a fetal position. Her muscles contracted from the tight lock and the cold temperature. Her eyes were wide opened and her breathing was shallowed.

Memoirs of Aleppo bled into the reality of Tokyo. The boom from all the fireworks resembled the airstrikes and bombs. Screeches rang in her ears. Both were hardly equal in firepower, but were all effective in keeping Wato alert. The distant cries and shots were amplified. She kept hearing Arabic words in Japanese speech.

After that catastrophe, she refused to sleep. Under her blanket, Wato watched the sunrise filtered through her apartment. She needed another bath to wash away the filth.

She slapped her cheeks for thinking about that. Wato needed to focus on the present! She had longer hours today due to her day off. Fortunately, her temporary position at the yakiniku restaurant will be coming to an end soon. One of the servers will be returning next week.

She knew something was going on with her. It did not make sense why it was happening now. Wato was fine this whole time, even after six months. These were pressing questions she had for Dr. Irikawa. The counselor told her she could to a drop-in, but that would be selfish. Dr. Irikawa was one of the best and most popular counselors. There were others that needed her help. Others with struggles that were surely far worse than hers.

Wato was a grown woman (unlike a certain consulting detective); she will tough it out until her next appointment in two weeks.

It was not a matter of can or cannot. It was a matter of must. An ironclad metality of determination. She needed to do this. Tachibana Wato was strong, not weak or useless.

***

During her break, Wato received another photo via text message. It was a picture of Wakasugi Sakura in her school uniform. She did not want to know the lengths the freelancer took to secure it. Wato was quite certain it was illegal.

She should get back investigating the Wakasugi Family Curse. Sherlock gave her an assignment to complete. Ryota was depending on her to solve this case. He replied that Daiki safely returned and that he was now accompanying his grandmother to the shrine. Her big brother also waved off the concerns about the woman; he anticipated something like that. Apparently, she fit the sterotype of quirky detective traits from the media. 

Working on this case will help keep her mind preoccupied. Wato had time before her next job to visit some temples.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	12. Chapter 12

This was the tenth temple she visited this week. There were so many shrines in the neighborhood near the Wakasugi household. So far, she had not much luck. A miko escorted her to the shamusho. She was sitting in a seiza position, waiting for the head priest to arrive in the administrative office. Wato rubbed her legs, it had been far too long since she sat like this. She also glanced at her watch, hopefully he will come out soon. She had a short shift at the gallery and a longer one at the library today.

Finally, the head priest walked out. “Thank you for waiting,” he greeted. He walked up to Wato and waited politely.

It was clear she had to speak. Wato fished out her cell phone. “Excuse me, do you sell this incense here?” She showed him the picture.

“Yes, we do,” he confirmed.

“Really?” Wato cried out. Her search was finally coming to an end! “Then do you know this woman?” She scrolled to the next picture. It was Sakura’s profile.

“I’ve seen her praying at a grave several times.” The consulting detective’s suspicions were sound. 

“Whose grave?”

“It belongs to someone who died in a car accident.”

“A car accident,” Wato trailed off, feeling sad for Sakura. At this point, it was becoming a violation of privacy. She was content to leave matters right there. Knowing Sherlock, that woman would criticize her for not obtaining the identity. Wato steeled herself to make eye contact with the head priest and asked for a name.

Her name was Kariya Misuzu. The priest shared that the accident happened four years ago. The late Kariya was an actress of a small theatre group at that time. Now Wato needed to find more information about Kariya. What was her connection to Sakura? The profile gave her an idea. Finding the high school was much easier than temple hunting. It was the only school nearby the temple that housed the actress' grave.

Wato made a plausible excuse with the school administrators and teachers to explain the case. The late Kariya was Sakura’s classmate and teammate for the high school’s kyudo team. None of the teachers kept in touch with Sakura after the accident. Congruently, they were unaware about updates in Sakura’s life.

Satisfied with this new information, Wato reported her findings to Sherlock via text message. The ball was now in Sherlock’s court. Wato felt she was quite useful for this investigation.

***

**_シャーロック [8:45]_ **

_You should have checked out the theater group, too. You didn’t follow through to the end._

Such a rude reply, was Wato’s efforts were all for naught? The woman’s response made her feel inadequate and angry; she did not live up to the freelancer’s expectations. Why did the consulting detective make her work? If Sherlock wanted thoroughness, she should have looked for the temples herself!

Wato did not have time to engage in an argument through text messages. She had a gallery shift to do. Wato will deal with the mystery later. Before she tucked her phone in her bag, there was another incoming message.

**_シャーロック [8:47]_ **

_Find out where they rehearse. You want to solve the case, don’t you?_

Wato stared at the screen. Was the consulting detective mocking or challenging her? It was probably both, but Wato was more inclined to think it was the latter. The first sentence did provide some sort of guidance.

She asked herself if she wanted to solve this case.

Yes.

Yes, she did. It was for Ryota and for his family. They deserved the truth. They were worthy of being a loving family. Her big brother worked so hard to create a new one, Wato will not allow a curse take that away from him.

Now she got it and she knew what to do next.

***

At Gallery Gelder, the banners and signs for the next exhibition were already printed. Wato was tasked with placing roll up banners along the entrance way. She took the time to read the titles of each show while arranging them. For the Middle East photographer, the name of the show was called Photo Exhibition-There is Hope Ahead of Sorrow. It presented by Moriya Toru, a war photographer that traveled extensively in conflict zones of the Middle East.

Such a peculiar name for a show, yet she liked the direct, concise title. It made more sense than the far-fetched, outlandish titles the other artists used to name their shows. Wato was intrigued to see the photographic subject matter. She would have to stop by the photo exhibition hallway to take a glance of his works.

She finally had her chance after placing the last banner at the sculpture exhibition hallway. The photo counterpart was not that far. From working at the gallery for a couple of weeks, Wato had a good grasp of the layout. She walked through the back routes; there was less foot traffic and chance of a supervisor assuming she was slacking off.

Like the sculpture exhibition hallway, the photo one had a main walkway with multiple rooms on the side. Wato did not have luxury of exploring the entire hallway, hence she sought sanctuary in the room closest to the walkway. The room was small, filled with large black and white photos. The photos were printed on canvas and were suspended on art hanging wires.

The subject matter was children, sometimes they were in a group, others were in a single shot. The kids were either posing or shot in action: playing, talking, praying, studying, or doing chores. Many children were smiling for the camera, only few were truly joyful. Knowing that the artist was a war photographer, she could easily discern it was taken at a refuge camp. The artist was skilled to obscure the background, forcing the viewer to look at the children. However, there was one artwork that had the name of the camp. Wato slightly leaned forward to catch the small print.

 

بااةاركا

 

Wato’s Arabic was slightly rusty since she was no longer in a country that used that script. It took her a few minutes to translate the text into Katakana.

 

با…バ [ba]

ةار…ハー [ha]

كا…カ [ka]

 

バハーカ…bahaka…The Baharka IDP camp!

 

Wato’s eyes widen. No way! He was in Iraq! The IDP camp was located in the Northern Region, specifically Kurdistan. She recalled that Baharka was one of the largest camps of women and children refugees.

Wato continued viewing each artwork until she stopped at the midway point. The photo was a horizontal shot. A young girl, no more than eight, was sitting under a canopy of blankets with sunlight filtering through the frayed fabric. The setting did not deter the beaming expression on her face.

“That’s my favorite photo,” someone spoke up behind her.

Wato slightly flinched at the voice of the newcomer. She was lost in thought, admiring the smiling girl before her. She failed to hear the footsteps approaching. Turning around, there was a tall male with short hair, mustache, and beard. His sightly rugged appearance enabled him to pass as a handsome model.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Moriya Toru, the war photographer and artist.” He concluded his introduction with a smile and a bow.

“It’s okay,“ she reassured before bowing. “Tachibana Wato, part time gallery worker. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“That girl has a lovely smile,” Wato commented, turning back to the photo. “It almost makes you forget she’s in a war zone. Were you in Iraq?”

“Yes, “ he confirmed, surprised by her question. “Do you know about it?”

“I was in Syria as a volunteer doctor.” That was the first time she admitted her former profession herself instead of others asking about her medical license and her subsequent stint as a doctor.

“Oh…I see.”

Perfect way to break the ice, Wato. There was nothing he could say as a follow-up. Yet, there was no patronizing or ignorant sentiment. It was like if he could comprehend those unspoken feelings.

“Even now, I’m still not sure. Did I make a difference? Could I have saved more people? Could I have done more?” she mused. They were in different countries, but human suffering was the same. Insufficient humanitarian aid was the universal theme in global conflicts of the twenty-first century.

“If you have time, would you like to talk about it?” he gently asked.

Eh? Wato turned around. For real? There was someone offering to talk and listen? No offense to Dr. Irikawa, but it felt different to confide with a peer. She always entertained the thought of chatting with the war photographer ever since the gallery director mentioned it to her. Now, she had the chance!

She grinned, it had been far too long since she smiled with sincerity. “Yes, I would like that. Can we reschedule it for a different day? I’m still working on my shift.”

“Ah, yes! My apologies, Tachibana-san, I forgot that you’re working right now. Still, I’m glad you took the time to view a small portion of my exhibition. I hope you will be able to see all my photographs once the show opens.”

Wato will mark her calendar to visit the exhibition. She and Moriya exchanged contact information before Wato returned back to work.

***

Meeting Moriya left her in a great mood. He was a polite and engaging man. It was refreshing to converse with someone outside of her social circle. It was even more fascinating that she found someone that had a similar experience to her. She and Moriya had a common ground, one she could divulge in without over explaining with background context or the emotions behind the experience. Given his response to her statement about being a volunteer doctor, the war photographer had a clear understanding of the hardships in working in a war zone.

That was something that cannot be easily relayed to others. The counselor would understand, but there was something more comfortable and intimate in talking with people closer to her age. Overall, she had a good feeling about her new acquaintance.

The uplifting spirit she had with Moriya stayed with her as she completed the library afternoon shift. The long, hectic hours the librarians endured for at least a month came to an end. The head librarian finally hired a new employee. The new girl proved to be a quick learner and a dedicated staff member. Wato kept hearing hums of approval from her senior colleagues.

It was almost evening when Wato stepped out of the library. She was about to head off to the station when she heard her name called simultaneously.

“Wato-oba!”

“Tachibana-kun!”

She spun around, only to meet a running Airi colliding into with full force. Wato grunted under her breath. Akiko’s daughter was getting bigger each day. “Hi, Airi-chan!” she replied, hugging the little girl. With the child buried into Wato’s coat, Dr. Mizuno calmly walked up. “Sensei! It’s good to see you again. Were you and Airi-chan running errands?” It was Thursday, the Mizuno's child had school the next day.

“Something like that,” the surgeon trailed off with a chuckle. Wato glanced down at the shopping bags he was carrying. One bag had groceries, the other had merchandise from a tokusatsu character. “We were shopping for tonight’s dinner, however, Airi conveniently mentioned there was another fan meeting at a department store that was a block over. Akiko has a longer shift today, so what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.”

Ah, Wato saw what was going on. She supposed her mentor really enjoyed himself at these hero events. It was great to see a father-daughter bond. Though, she had a feeling those two will get into more shenanigans behind Akiko’s back.

The girl detached herself from Wato. “There were not too many people at Olfram’s show today,” Airi explained. She left Wato’s side and dug into the merchandise bag. “The adults had so much Olfram stuff!” She grabbed a packet of stationery letters and handed it to Wato. “Here, Wato-oba! Haha says it’s important to share!”

Wato took the packet and thanked the girl. It was a simple design: a starry blue background with light blue on the inside for writing. The left bottom corner had a masked hero clad in red and silver. There were hints of green outlining the shoulder pads, breastplate, and mask visor. So this was Olfram. The only superhero tokusatsu programs she remembered from her childhood were  _Ultraman: The Ultimate Hero_ and _Kyoryu Sentai Zyuranger_. (Oh man, she was an old school fan!)

Time with the father and daughter was cut short, as both need to hustle back to their apartment before the mother came home. As usual, they invited Wato over for another family dinner. Wato smiled and promised to set a date.

As soon as their backs were turn, Wato’s smile slid off her face. When Airi hugged her, Wato’s phone beeped with an incoming text message. As she put the Olfram letters into her bag, she took a glance at her phone. It was another one from the woman.

Her day first started with and now ended with the freelancer.

Wato resisted the urge to read the message until she safely returned to her apartment. Over a bowl of udon, she read the message.

**_シャーロック [18:25]_ **

_A day had already passed. Have you found the theatre troupe? Didn’t you want to solve the case?_

What was with the pushy attitude? This was the wrong way to motivate someone; it was leading to more resistance. However, Wato believed in responsibility; not to the consulting detective, but to her big brother.

She found the contact information for the small theatre near Kariya’s grave. Wato will call the theatre staff tomorrow and set up an appointment. Friday will be a busy day with the yakiniku restaurant and gallery. Saturday, in contrast, will be more open.

It was time to resume investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to legacy-of-the-westside-prince on tumblr for novel excerpt translations! =]
> 
> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	13. Chapter 13

The Meguro ward truly lived up to its reputation as a quiet residential area within central Tokyo. The Wakasugi clan picked a suitable land to raise a generation of family members. Wato was really grateful that theatre hunting was not as laborious as the temple. She called the theatre during her break at the library and asked if she could speak to the director about a former actress. Like the school administrators, she used her plausible excuse to explain the case.

The director had a busy schedule, his actors were rehearsing for a play that will take place in January next year. Nonetheless, he agreed to help her. The only time in his schedule was Saturday, the troupe will be having a late morning practice. Wato cross-checked in her schedule; she only had one shift in the afternoon. Her weekend errand was set.

After her shift, she texted Sherlock the information. It was mainly for stopping the consulting detective pestering her for an investigation follow-up. (There was a tiny reason for common courtesy, she was raised with good manners!) Wato considered visiting a shrine and vigorously praying the freelancer would not show up on Saturday morning.

***

Wato blamed her busy schedule at the gallery and yakiniku restaurant for not visiting a shrine to pray for warding off the freelancer. Soon as she arrived at the theatre, there was Sherlock standing at the entrance. The woman was facing her, hands in the tan trench coat and eyes firmly narrowed in a brooding manner. Wato was convinced she had two expression modes: brooding and not brooding.

“Morning,” she greeted. Being polite to everyone was an old habit to break. Wato knew the consulting detective did not deserve her respect, yet she could not help herself.

Sherlock grunted in acknowledgement.

Since the entrance doors were locked, the two women had to wait. Wato contemplated on calling the director, but then she saw a person jogging to the entrance. He opened the door and addressed himself as Enomoto, the theatre director.

Enomoto led them inside a rehearsal room that looked like a dance studio. It was a spacious area where the troupe was stretching and doing warm-ups.

Immediately, Sherlock left her side and walked towards the actors. Wato could talk with Enomoto in peace. It was better that way.

“So how can I help you with this case?” he began.

“Can you please tell me more about Kariya Misuzu-san?” she asked.

“She was with us for about five years,” the director explained sadly. “An accident claimed her life.”

“Can you elaborate more on the accident?” 

“It happened while she was driving with a friend,” he elaborated. “It was her friend’s fault, but Misuzu-chan died.”

It seemed like there was a correlation from her talk with the head priest last week. Wato needed to establish a connection. “Was that friend Wakasugi Sakura-san?”

Enomoto nodded. “Yes, that was her.” There was no malice in his voice. The theatre director was merely stating a fact.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the woman also stretching. Sherlock was not talking to any of the actors nor pestering them. Thank goodness. Wato was about to ask a follow-up question about any actors that were close to Kariya. Suddenly, the rehearsal entrance door opened. A man clad in a hoodie, jeans, and converse shoes rushed in.

“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered to the director. 

“Kaito-kun!” Enomoto called out.

The man called Kaito stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Yes?”

“These people want to know about Misuzu-chan.”

“I have nothing to say,” he retorted flatly. Unlike the director, there was resentment.

“What do you mean?” Enomoto commented in a puzzled tone. “You were going to get married.”

“You were engaged?” Wato widen her eyes. Oh no. This case was becoming too intimate and too personal. She was unsure how to tread from here.

“Please, it was a long time ago,” the actor responded dismissively. He turned around and walked over to the actors. He sat on the bench and noticed Sherlock. “Good morning! Are you new?”

“Yes, hello,” the woman greeted. It was very surreal to see her acting polite. If only Wato had the same treatment!

“Welcome,” he responded politely. Then he addressed his colleagues. “Where shall we start?”

“That’s Yuuki Kaito-kun,” the theatre director explained. “He was Misuzu-chan’s fiancé; they were college sweethearts.”

It was good to know; there was no need to ask him questions. Yuuki made it clear how he felt about the late Kariya.

“He works part-time at a gardening store,” Sherlock spoke up as she skipped towards Wato.

“How did you know?” Enomoto inquired. He was surprised by the analysis. Wato knew the feeling.

The freelancer raised her hand. Her index and thumb held a small particle. “This was on his shoe. It’s commonly used in gardening,” she explained. It was promptly given to Wato.

Wato automatically cupped her hands together when a fertilizer speck dropped in. “I don’t want this,” she complained. She was not a trash can! Besides, information about Yuuki’s employment history was quite irrelevant to her.

“A theater like this can’t pay people much,” Sherlock remarked. What was she saying? “They need to work part-time to get by.” Please stop talking! Wato did not need another social blunder happening in real time.

Something in Enomoto snapped. The mild mannered disposition melted away. “‘A theatre like this’?” he repeated angrily. Wato did not blame him for taking personal offense. It was the right reaction to an unruly and unpleasant woman.

“It’s time for rehearsal, so we’re done,” he said brusquely. 

“Thank you and my apologies.” Wato bowed. She could not agree more. It was time to leave.

“Get started!” His voice was thunderous. 

All actors immediately got in formation. “Yes, sir!”

Wato noted that the freelancer was reacting badly to the abrupt change in decibel. She kept flinching at the loud sounds. Sherlock greatly annoyed her, but Wato was not heartless to let a person suffer from audio processing. She reached over and dragged the consulting detective away from the noise. 

“Why do you always have to piss people off?” Wato scolded. This was the one moment where propriety was thrown out the window. It felt nice to express her true feelings. Thank you, Daiki for the inspiration.

“I was just stating the facts.”

That was a terrible excuse. In a polite society such as theirs, one really had to be careful with their words. Saying the wrong words and context was asking for trouble and soured relationships.

Wato’s phone rang, forcing her to unlatch from the woman’s forearm. Looking at the caller-ID, it was Ryota. Was something wrong?

“Yes?”

 _“Wato, it’s about Sakura. She seemed to be possessed again.”_ Her brother sounded so distressed.

“Again? She drank blood again?” What was going on with Sakura?

There was energetic yelling behind her. “Begin! Go!” Enomoto howled. She struggled to listen closely.

 _“No, Okaasan found her near Wakana’s crib. She and Okaasan fought; Okaasan kept trying to pull her away from Wakana and Sakura kept screaming. I had to grab Sakura and asked her what was wrong. I tried to get her to calm down, but she kept insisting to let her go. Eventually she gave up and she retreated to her room. Okaasan called the female priest again.”_

“We’ll be right over,” she replied quickly hung up. She saw Sherlock almost kneeling with hands near her ears. The constant shouting was deeply affecting her. The consulting detective needed to be redirected.

“Let’s go,” Wato declared as she pulled the freelancer upwards. “It happened again.”

***

Her childhood friend was waiting outside the front gate. “I’m sorry,” he said as a greeting. Wato inwardly frowned. It echoed the past: his apologetic tendency whenever there was something troubling him.

“Everything okay?” Wato hoped Sakura remained in her room and not retaliated against her mother or the priest.

“I guess," Ryota replied. He and Wato started walking inside. It felt off not hearing the heel clicking. When she turned around, the woman was still rooted at the front. She learned forward, looking at the stream that bordered the property. What was she doing?

“There’s koi fish,” the consulting detective observed.

“Look later.” This freelancer had weird timing. It was not the time to be distracted.

Ryota lead them to the entrance of Sakura's room. The shoji was slightly ajar. Inside, Sakura was on her futon while the same Shinto priest from before and Shizue were kneeling.

“Luhu, Luhu, Luhu,” the priest kept chanting. The Wakasugi matriarch, on the other hand, kept clutching her prayer beads, vigorously praying along.

“I don’t understand,” Ryota whispered. His family was not the religious nor superstitious type. Wato recalled they only visited the temple for New Year’s back in Sapporo.

“Is it the bat’s curse after all?” Wato wondered. She was quite unclear about the extent of the family curse. Ryota's mother-in-law seemed to have the most knowledge, but it was useless to ask.

Sherlock clamped down on Wato’s shoulder and rolled her eyes. Then she gazed ahead, a navy cardigan was hanging on the hook. The woman narrowed her eyes and forcibly shoved Wato away. She crossed over the exorcism ritual-both priest and matriarch were too engrossed to see the freelancer trespassing. How did this consulting detective earned her reputation?

The woman placed her hand in the front pocket and pulled something out. She quickly crossed the room and returned to the hallway.

“What is it?” Wato asked.

“Scientific evidence that it’s not a curse,” Sherlock proudly stated as she flashed the object in front of Wato and Ryota.

“A syringe?” That was something she did not expect. What did it had to do with the case?

***

They did not stay long at the Wakasugi home. Sherlock cited she needed to analyze residue left in the syringe. In other words, it was lab work. Spending time in the lab was an integral part in Wato’s background with a biological degree. She was quite curious to watch a toxicology procedure take place.

“Can I come?” she asked with hope.

“No,” the consulting detective refuted. “You won’t be quiet; I won’t be able to concentrate.”

Wato's enthusiasm was gutted. She did not have a comeback since the freelancer turned her heel and walked away.

Fine. Be that way. Why should Wato care? She already did her job with talking to the head priest of the Asakura shrine and the theatre director. Her role was done.

With that, Wato commuted back to Setagaya where she relaxed at her flat before she had to report in for work. Today was her last day at the yakiniku restaurant. She had mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she can be free from a crazy fast-pace environment. Especially from a manager that kept her eyes on Wato. She had the feeling the manager never trusted her again after chatting with Ryota. On the other hand, she will miss wearing the pink kimono; it was quite comfortable. Since kimonos are quite expensive-even a plain one for the hospitality industry-it was expected she would have to return it.

She kept thinking about the events that transpired this morning. It was a painful realization that everyone in her social circle was related to Sherlock somehow. Wato needed more friends. She needed people that were not related to the consulting detective whatsoever.

There was one person that came to mind: Moriya Toru. Their conversation at Gallery Gelder was short, but she enjoyed herself. It was truly refreshing to connect with someone that had a similar experience to hers.

Wato promised to set up a cafe date. She will have more time once the yakiniku restaurant employment period will be terminated. Wato should really be focusing on applying for a new job since another source of income will cease, but she could not bring herself to care. She needed a break.

She picked up her phone and opened a new text message page addressed to Moriya. Wato typed out: _Hi Moriya-san! It's Tachibana from Gallery Gelder. I was wondering when do you want to set a date for a quick cup of coffee at a cafe? Talk to you soon!_

Wato giggled as she pressed the send button. After that fiasco with Yoneyama, she never expected to get another chance at dating.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with an incoming text message. It was Moriya!

 

**_守谷 透さん [18:30]_ **

_Hi, Tachibana-san! Coffee sounds great. I’m free until the show opening. I’ll let you choose the date!_

 

Wato immediately responded back with proposed dates and allowed him to choose the cafe. In the end, they were scheduled for next Friday. There was a new cafe that recently opened in Omotesando.

She could not wait. Next Friday could not have come faster enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	14. Chapter 14

Wato stepped out of her apartment in a great mood. It was finally Friday! Today was one of her very rare days off; she was not needed at the library nor gallery. Perfect day for a coffee date! The location of the date was at Lattest Omotesando in Omotesando.

The war photographer was waiting for her at the entrance. Moriya’s face lighted up as Wato greeted him enthusiastically. Like herself, he was also wearing casual clothing. Interestingly enough, he only wore a light jacket over his white top whereas she had a wool cardigan to keep herself warm. Scientifically, she knew it was because men have a higher proportion of body mass than women. Still, she could relate the sentiment of surviving with the bare minimum of clothing.

“How’s your morning?” Moriya asked with a smile.

Awww. That was so nice! Wato sorely missed basic etiquette and common decency. “I’m doing great!” she happily replied. “Are you well?”

The war photographer confirmed he was and opened the door for Wato, allowing her to enter first. What a gentleman!

After placing their orders, the two found an empty table and began talking as they waited for their drinks.

“Have you been here before?”

Wato shook her head. “No, but I heard about this place from one of my coworkers. They really liked this place so I'm excited to try it out.”

He grinned at her response. “Today is your day off, right?”

“That’s right,” she affirmed, wondering why he asked in the first place.

“After we have our drinks, would you like to have lunch together?”

What? No way! She got asked out for a lunch date! Again!

Wato’s smile grew wider. “I would love that! What do you have in mind?”

“In the Kita-Aoyama district of Minato, there’s a restaurant run by a Syrian refugee chef. It’s called Nazem Syrian Restaurant. The establishment was made possible by crowdfunding thanks to a tech CEO.”

Wato widened her eyes. No way! Refugees coming to Japan were nothing new, but to hear a successful story of rebuilding a new life in a new country was very rare. She had to check out this eatery!

“Would you like to go?”

She nodded her head. Of course she would like to go! Tokyo does have international cuisines, but nothing can come close when it was not from the native country in terms of authenticity. Having a Syrian chef running a Syrian restaurant, that was the closest she would ever get to eating the cuisine again.

***

When the barista served them their drinks, Wato and Moriya talked about their cultural experience in Syria and Iraq respectively. Eventually, pleasantries were exhausted as the war photographer drifted into his counseling sessions.

“Every time I return, I see Irikawa-sensei,” Moriya admitted.

“Hence the flyers in the waiting room,” Wato continued. It was sweet that the counselor was very supportive of her patients.

“Yes.”

She was impressed by his dedication and closeness to Dr. Irikawa. It made sense why she had strong reviews. “Are you planning to go to a war zone again?”

“Yes, I want to take as many pictures of them as I can,” he stated with confidence. “Their anger and sorrow. The unexpected smiles that light up their faces. They’re so resilient.”

Wato nodded her head subconsciously in agreement. Those children really were. She hoped the kids at her refuge camp were still well.

Moriya sighed as he looked off to the window. “Every single one of them has lost a loved one. Yet, they take that grief and look to the future. That’s much harder than wallowing in sorrow.”

That was true strength, a testament of human mentality. Wato wished she had a quarter of that strength.

“Are you all right, Tachibana-san?”

Huh? What was that? Wato looked up to see the war photographer concerned.

“Any flashbacks?” he repeated. “When you’re suddenly overcome by memories of war?”

The fireworks incident came to her mind. She shook her head. Wato did not have the courage to admit it. “Do you?”

“All the time,” the war photographer confirmed. “I hear bombs, the sound of machine guns…and people screaming and crying.” He paused and gave a brittle laugh. “I make myself sound special; but, I always end up scared and run back to Japan.”

He ended to conversation by picking up his coffee. Moriya took a sip and immediately recoiled from the heat. “It’s hot!” he exclaimed.

That made Wato giggle. Of course it was hot! Their coffee was freshly brewed. “Are you okay?”

The photographer chuckled. “Yes, I’m fine.” He picked up his cup again and carefully blew on it. The next fifteen minutes were spent in silence as the two enjoyed their hot drinks on an autumn Friday.

The tranquility was broken when Wato heard her cell phone vibrate inside her tote bag. The specific tone indicated it was an incoming call. She fumbled to reach for her mobile device. By the time she fished it out, Wato already missed the call.

Ryota’s call was unanswered. Hopefully he would leave a message or try again. She placed her phone on the table and resumed drinking the remaining drops of coffee.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed again! Wato glanced over at the phone number. This time it was a text message; a text message from Sherlock. What now? It had been a week since she heard from the freelancer.

“Excuse me,” she said quickly. Wato entered her passcode to access the notification.

 

**_シャーロック [10:15]_ **

_There’s traces of poison._

 

That was speedy lab work, normally it would take longer. Wato raised her eyebrows as she typed out her response.  _Poison?_

 

**_シャーロック [10:18]_ **

_It’s curare; a natural poison used by South American tribes._

 

She recalled about curare; hunters utilized the poison to paralyze and suffocate the prey. _Why did someone put that in a syringe?_

 

**_シャーロック [10:22]_ **

_Eliminate the impossible and you’re left with the unlikely truth. Come with me to the Wakasugi manor. The family curse farce needs to be put to an end._

 

Wato furrowed her eyebrows. _Now?_

 

**_シャーロック [10:25]_ **

_Now._

 

She was hesitant to comply. On one hand, she would be robbed of another luncheon again. Somehow, Sherlock managed to crash her date through a sling of text messages; this was unbelievable.

On the other hand, this meant the consulting detective was closer to solving the case! Wato was still interested in listening how curare factored into this “curse.” Besides, if the woman was left unchecked, who knows what she would say to insult the family. Ryota was certainly not like Enomoto; she never seen him angry before and she did not want that to happen.

In all, she had to make a choice: date or case.

“Tachibana-san, is everything okay?” Moriya looked at her with concern.

She sighed. The war photographer was such a nice guy. He reminded her of her brother-very understanding and patient. Surely he would not mind if they postponed it, right?

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, startling herself and the other patrons near their table. “I can’t go to the restaurant with you!”

“Oh,” he remarked, doing his best to mask the rejection surprise. “Emergency work shift?”

“Well, kind of,” Wato started. “It’s Sherlock, she can be quite pushy and impatient-“

“Sherlock?” he cut in. The warm tone was replaced by a frosty voice.

“It’s a long story,” she responded quickly. “She’s helping out a friend of mine.”

He remained strangely quiet, a dark look was forming on his face. “I see,” the war photographer retorted flatly. “Have a good day, Tachibana-san.”

Wato grabbed her belongings and bowed as she rose from her seat. She fled Lattest Omotesando, it was uncomfortable being in Moriya’s soured presence. His moodiness was triggered when Sherlock’s name was mentioned.

What was that about?

***

Ryota was waiting at the front gate. Sherlock was staring at the kois swimming in the stream. Wato was the last one to arrive.

“Thanks for waiting,” Wato greeted towards her brother. “Sorry I missed your call.”

Her childhood friend waved off the concern. “Don’t worry about it. It was a heads up call that Sherlock-san wanted to visit today.”

Sweet, sweet Ryota, he was looking out for her. Wato smiled. “Should we get this over with?”

Ryota nodded his head. “Okaasan is waiting in the family room with Wakana; Sakura is still bedridden.”

She was ready; the family was ready. All was missing the consulting detective that was studying the fishes.

She had to project her voice to get the woman’s attention. Once the freelancer was on her feet, they followed Ryota inside.

***

The four adults sat around the kotatsu while Wakana was peacefully sleeping in her crib. The conversation began with the syringe, found in the cardigan, had residue of curare.

“So she wasn’t sucking Wakana’s blood?” Both mother and son-in law were surprised.

“Someone injected the baby with poison. You wife was attempting to suck it out,” Sherlock explained.

“Why did she had the syringe?” Shizue interjected. Wato wondered as well, what was the freelancer’s theory?

“She went to the baby’s room to look for it. The first time I saw the room, there was no syringe. She got it the second time she visited the room,” the consulting detective clarified. “The possibility of that is very high. We didn’t discover it earlier because she hid it under the mattress.”

“Why did she hide it?” Wato spoke up.

“To protect the real culprit.”

“Real culprit?” she repeated. Who could that be? By the process of elimination, no one came to mind.

“I did it,” a new voice responded. Everyone sans the woman turned their heads to Sakura. “I used the syringe on Wakana,” the mother maintained.

“It wasn’t you,” the freelancer countered. Wato silently agreed; she personally saw how concerned Sakura was for both of her children. She paused in her thinking. Wow, they agreed on something!

A long arm extended outwards, pointing at Ryota. “The culprit is there,” Sherlock asserted.

Her brother moved to the side, revealing his son quietly playing with the action figures again. Wato never noticed him earlier.

Wait.

WHAT?

“That’s impossible!” Wato declared. She refused to believe it. “Even if you do hate children, that’s terrible.” This consulting detective reached a new low.

She was ignored. The woman finally turned her head to Sakura. “Well?”

Ryota’s wife remained silent. Was the freelancer correct?

“Sakura,” Ryota began. It seemed like he did not want to believe it either. Then he switched tactics, desperate to get the real truth. “Daiki, what’s going on?”

The little boy wordlessly looked up. He was doing his best to remain silent, but Wato could sense Daiki’s inner conflict. It had to be more than his sister’s condition and the distress from his father, mother, and grandmother. Ryota’s son did his best to keep his composure, but whatever was troubling him was stronger. Unable to handle the crushing weight of stares and personal turmoil, the child responded the same way any other kid would.

He got up and ran out.

“Daiki!” Ryota cried out, surprised by his son’s abrupt actions. For Wato, this was nothing new. She practically raised three younger sisters. She knew the body language. Hence, it was an instinct to chase after him without putting on her shoes.

***

Her socks made contact with the grass as she caught up to him near the front gate.

“Daiki-kun! Daiki-kun!” she exclaimed, taking bigger strides to catch up. “Daiki-kun! Daiki-kun!” Her arms enveloped his small frame.

“Daiki-kun,” Wato whispered. “What’s wrong?” The little boy was frozen in place. Without warning, she felt teeth clamping hard onto her forearm. 

“Ouch!” she yelped. As a reflexive response, she released her hold on Daiki. He took it as an opportunity to run off again.

She had to catch him before he went too far! Due to his head start, Ryota’s son was already at the front gate. He quickly unlocked it and swung the wooden doors open.

Before he could take a step outside, Sherlock appeared from the corner, blocking his path. She confidently stepped in front of him and used her hands to push him back. Since the consulting detective was stronger than him, Daiki stumbled backwards, but did not fall.

Wato jogged up to the duo.

“Someone told you to do it, right?” the freelancer questioned, crouching to his height and staring intensely at the boy.

“What do you mean?” Wato commented. So Sherlock was not accusing him out of spite? If that was the case, then who was ordering an innocent child to administer poison to his baby sister?

Daiki refused to answer and he remained quiet on the walk back. There was no resistance from him; the ordeal and outburst took a toll on him.

***

The consulting detective’s inquiry was stuck with her. It made sense that the little boy was not forthcoming to his parents. This was too complex for a child to process and comprehend the repercussions for his actions. Wakasugi Sakura must had realized this the night she caught Daiki with the syringe. She took the blame to spare her son. It was a testament of omoiyari, altruistic sensitivity. In this case, it was exemplified as a mother’s love that knew no bounds; it was a powerful feeling.

The family room had less occupants, but the tension and silence remained thick. Daiki was kneeling and facing his father while the two women stood. How would they go from here?

The freelancer broke the silence. “How did you get the syringe?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	15. Chapter 15

“Olfram gave it to me.”

Olfram sounded familiar. Where did she hear that name before?

“Daiki, don’t lie!” Ryota reprimanded. “Why did you inject her?”

There was silence from the little boy. Perhaps this was what Daiki feared the most: his own family not believing him. Wato was moved with great empathy for the child. She understood his feelings from her own experience with her sisters. Ryota’s son needed an advocate. A voice to express his feelings.

She sat down on the opposite end of the kotatsu. “Were you trying to make Wakana-chan better?” Wato began gently. The boy was quite good at remaining nonchalant, but she felt his collected attitude thawing. She was on the right track. “Daiki-kun, did you want her to be able to play?”

The woman cut in from above. “What makes you think that?"

That answer was surprisingly simple.

“Daiki-kun had a girl’s toy. I bet he got it for Wakana-chan,” Wato explained. She recalled seeing a pink bunny in his hands whenever Shizue was praying. Then she faced Daiki again. “That was it, right?”

Wato swore she saw a small smile on the child’s face. She felt so proud of herself.

To her surprise, Sherlock also kneeled down. She reached over for his action figure and started examining it. This freelancer’s attention to detail and concentration was something else.

“How do you contact Olfram?” the freelancer asked, eyes still glued on the toy. 

“I write to him,” Ryota’s son answered. It was surprising that he was more cooperative. His guard was down and comfortable around an adult. Wato was determined to strengthen that trust.

With her brother being satisfied by the results Wato made, he left his son and the two women alone. Wato took the initiative and politely asked to see written correspondence between Daiki and this Olfram.

Daiki readily agreed and lead them to his room. Once inside, he approached his bookcase and pulled out a chapter book. Underneath the flaps were stationery letters. He gathered the sheets and handed it to Sherlock. “I write a letter and leave it at the shrine,” the boy clarified. “Then he writes me a reply.”

“When did you first meet Olfram?” the consulting detective asked.

“A month ago.” A small hand pointed to the picture frame on his desk. “There was a hero show at the big store. After that, I got a letter from Olfram. He said he wanted to talk to me.”

Sherlock finished reading the text and handed them to Wato. 

Hey, she recognized that character! This was the same tokusatsu hero Dr. Mizuno and Airi mentioned to her. Heck, this was even the same stationery set she received! She quickly scanned the letters. To a child, the correspondence seemed innocent with the use of Hiragana. For her, however, this was awfully dubious. There was no reason for a masked superhero to pester about a private life. Especially how the character was played by an adult. She did not like this at all.

Now it was Wato’s turn to ask, “And you began writing to each other?”

He nodded his head. There was a sharp difference from before. Daiki quickly responded to her! Then Wato’s heart sank; he was truly innocent. Had it not been for Sakura’s intervention, he would be an only child. That would inflict a greater sense of guilt. Wato had to help solve this case!

“I want to write to Olfram,” the freelancer declared. “Write the letter for me.” Daiki refused to budge. Clearly, Sherlock did not earn his respect. Unsatisfied by the defiance, the consulting detective leaned closer and whispered. “You did this, you know.”

Daiki remained still, showing no emotion towards the accusation. She knew the poor boy clearly had no idea about the consequences of his actions. Regardless, the woman had no right to be blunt. “Don’t talk like that,” Wato chastised. Her big sister instincts were kicking in, she will stand up for Ryota’s child.

“The bad guy used you,” she continued, ignoring Wato. “Your sister almost died!”

“Sherlock!” This was the third time she called out the freelancer’s first name. (What the heck? What was going on with her?)

“You did this. So you have to make it better,” the woman concluded. Both child and adult continued to stare at each other. The former retracted and retreated to his desk. He grabbed a new paper and pencil. A cherubic grin graced Sherlock’s countenance as she persuaded Daiki to cooperate.

The freelancer hovered over Ryota’s son. “Write this down: ‘Please give me more medicine. l’ll make sure she gets it this time.’ Go on.” The sounds of pencil scribbling filled the silence. It took no more than ten minutes for Daiki to complete his task. Sherlock, who was still behind him, leaned downward to double-check his work. She hummed in approval.

It was set to go. The boy needed to deliver the letter. It occurred to Wato that he never said where he left his letters and picked up responses from Olfram. She asked if the massha at the shrine was their mailbox. He confirmed it was. There was a small tin pencil case in the tiny structure. The letters were placed on top of the case while the syringe was placed inside.

After that, the three left his bedroom. The child went off to the shrine while Sherlock stepped outside to make a phone call. Wato found Ryota in the family room and explained to her brother what happened. Her childhood friend was appalled by this stranger taking advantage of his son yet rueful for neglecting Daiki.

The next few minutes was devoted to Wato comforting Ryota. It was like their childhood days where she and her sister helped him to not be so hard on himself. She stressed that it was no one’s fault but the one disguising as Olfram. That person exploited Daiki’s interest. Plus, having an infant with a congenital heart condition was stressful for any parent. Her talk lifted his spirits. That was good, her brother needed to be strong for his family.

Sherlock cleared her throat from behind. The freelancer was leaning against the shoji. “We’re doing a stakeout tonight,” she declared. “A letter has been delivered to the shrine, the culprit will certainly be there to retrieve it. The police will be there to capture the perpetrator.” Both Wato and Ryota stared at the consulting detective. It seemed so soon, but the offender must have been anxiously waiting for Daiki’s update.

It was agreed upon that Wato and Sherlock would return to the Wakasugi manor around 9:30 PM. Both Ryota and Sakura were encouraged to come along. She and the freelancer parted ways. Although it was only lunchtime, Wato needed time to prepare herself for tonight’s errand. She was famished. The thought of visiting the Syrian restaurant was appealing, but the Minato ward was too much of hassle for a lunchtime commute from Meguro. Even so, that stuntfrom Moriya deflated her eagerness.

As she commuted back to her apartment, she kept thinking about Wakasugi Daiki. The young child had a way of internalizing his emotions. Once the suspect was captured, there was no doubt that the boy would be crushed. She could see how much he idolized Olfram. The one beneath the superhero guised defiled the justice and righteousness all tokusatsu protagonists fought for. Wato did not want Daiki to lose his innocence nor develop bitterness in his heart. She had to do something, but what?

She got distracted as she received a call from Gallery Gelder. Wato answered the phone, secretly hoping she was not needed for an emergency shift. Fortunately, that was not the case. Her coworker informed her that there were flyers for the new exhibition. All employees were encouraged to pass the leaflets to their family and friends. Wato promised to stop by and pick up her handouts.

***

Wato could feel excitement upon walking into Gallery Gelder. The latest exhibition was to open next week. She waited at the front desk for the receptionist to retrieve flyers from the back. Her eyes traveled from one end to the other. She glanced at the banners of the featured artists. The final one was There is Hope Ahead of Sorrow by Moriya Toru.

Moriya…

Her mind reeled back to Lattest Omotesando. She could not understand the sudden change in attitude. The only catalyst was the text messages from the consulting detective.

Wait a minute.

Was that it? Moriya’s connection to Sherlock?

It pained her that another contact had a perceived six degree relation towards the freelancer. Obviously both war photographer and the woman had a terrible one. With her life practically revolved around the consulting detective, Wato hardly knew a thing about her. Clearly, that consulting detective must have some kind of history.

Normally she was not the type to pry. However, Sherlock was no ordinary woman. Wato truly needed to understand the freelancer’s character. To understand and avoid that terrible personality. Perhaps she should take the risk and ask Moriya.

The receptionist interrupted her thoughts. Wato took the handouts, thanked her coworker, and left Gallery Gelder. She needed to set aside her ponder on the freelancer and start thinking of who to give these flyers to. There was her colleagues at the library for starters. Plus, she could post one leaflet at the community board in her neighborhood. It would not hurt to share this information with Shibata, the Mizunos, and the Wakasugis. That seemed like a viable plan.

Her stomach loudly grumbled.

First, she needed to grab sustenance.

***

“Tachibana-san?”

Wato glanced up from her beef donburi to see Akiko standing next to her. Her friend was carrying a tray of her donburi order.

“Akiko-san?” Wato responded. It really had been too long since she last saw Akiko was back in Sport’s Day. It was at least three weeks ago; October was almost coming to a close.

“It’s been so long,” the pharmaceutical researcher remarked. “How are you doing? Was the urban legend person able to help your friend?”

Wato invited Akiko to sit at her table before she began to answer the questions. Before she began, Wato wrestled with the idea of sharing her encounters with the freelancer. Based on her friend’s question about, she doubted Haitani described Sherlock’s mannerisms to Akiko. It was not in her nature to start unnecessary drama. Concurrently, Wato was withholding so much. Rationally speaking, she knew it was not healthy. Her heart, however, could not find the will to convey her feelings. In the end, she decided to do a compromise: give Akiko a tiny insight to the consulting detective.

After relaying her story to Akiko, there was no changes to the pharmaceutical researcher’s face. “With a name like that, I bet she was raised abroad,” her friend wondered. Huh, Wato did not considered that. The freelancer spoked fluent Japanese; therefore Sherlock’s parents (or legal guardians) were Japanese citizens. Of course, this was all speculations. It was not like the woman would magically confirm Wato’s suspicions.

The two women did not linger on the consulting detective topic. Their conversation transitioned to the Wakasugi family and the “curse.” Akiko found Ryota’s background touching and genuinely felt happy for his newfound family. Like Wato, she also felt concerned for the children. It was definitely due to her maternal instincts.

“I want to do something for Daiki-kun,” Wato confessed. “I want to cheer him up once this ordeal was over.”

Akiko crossed her arms and leaned over the table. “The answer is very simple, Tachibana-san: write a letter as Olfram. You have the same stationery set as Daiki-kun, right?”

Eh? How did Akiko knew about her Olfram paper?

Her friend chuckled. “I’m a mother. Airi and Takayuki know better than to lie to me after I found a stash of Olfram merchandise from cleaning the apartment. Airi mentioned she gave you set on that Thursday evening.”

Wato smiled sheepishly. The superpowers of being a mom, even she was powerless against it. “That would be great,” she retorted. “Although I have never watched the show before. I don’t know how to write his character.” If Wato was going to roleplay as a masked superhero, then she needed to know the protagonist himself.

“All right then, you are invited to dinner tonight,” Akiko declared. “You may come earlier, Airi would be more than happy to introduce you to Olfram. She would play her DVDs for you.”

Wato’s evening was going to be very busy.

***

True to Akiko’s word, Airi did play her DVDs for Wato. The little girl started with the pilot. In thirty minutes, Wato learned about Olfram’s origins, allies, and enemies-the three elements that set the plot for each episode. As a children’s program, _Olfram: The Masked Hero!_ had a “monster-of-the week” format. If she was watching the show when it was airing and in the same demographic as the target audience, Wato probably would have found it enjoyable. The simplistic structure got quite redundant by the time episode five started playing. The theme song and catch phrases were now stuck in her head.

The silver lining about it were the themes. The superhero preached about compassion and teamwork. Each episode emphasized the importance of kindness and asking for help. For the latter one, Olfram stressed there was no shame; everyone was stronger when they cooperated together. (It hit a little too close for Wato.)

Inspiration struck her at episode eight. This particular installment focused on empathy; it was a lesson on omiyiari.

That was it!

She could use this idea to enlighten Daiki what his mother done to protect him. It was perfect: Ryota’s son would not be hindered by this guilt when he was older. Wato knew exactly what to write once she returned to her apartment. 

The Olfram marathon came to a close once dinner was announced. It was only her, Akiko, and Airi dining since Dr. Mizuno had a late night shift at the hospital again. The dinner table was filled with happy stories the little girl shared from school. Her friend remained quiet until Airi excused herself to use the bathroom.

“How old is Daiki-kun, again?”

“He’s five.” Where was Akiko going with this conversation?

“How would his parents feel if he had a playmate?”

Eh? Wato took a double take at her friend. “What do you mean?”

“Both Airi and Daiki-kun are fans of Olfram,” the mother began. “My daughter keeps pestering me and Takayuki if she will have a sibling.”

Wato almost choked on her water. Wow, that was unexpected. She was starting to see Akiko’s reasoning.

“Plus, you mentioned his sister had a congenital heart condition and that was negatively affecting him since he wanted to play with her. Why not introduce them to each other? That would solve their problems.”

That proposal seemed reasonable. Having a friend would distract Daiki from his home life while Airi could always have another kid in her social circle (and preserve the sanity of the Mizuno parents).

“I’ll talk to Ryota-niichan,” Wato replied.

With dinner concluded, she announced she had to get going. Airi was bummed to see her go, but Wato promised she would visit again. She also gave Akiko a Gallery Gelder flyer and urged her to share it with her colleagues. Her friend assured Wato that Dr. Mizuno and his coworkers would also be included.

***

Wato returned to the Wakasugi manor in good timing. She did not have a long nap after dinner; she hoped that the stakeout would not take all night. She will need her sleep for her afternoon library shift on Saturday.

Both Ryota and Sakura greeted her at the front gate. Like Wato, they were warmly bundled for a nightly surveillance. Wato noted that the couple looked less stressed. Perhaps they had a good talk after she and the consulting detective left. Wato was inwardly relieved, the two parents could move forward and raise their family together.

There was no time for small talk as the freelancer approached the trio from Wato’s right. Seeing the other woman highlighted the tensions of capturing the suspect. “Let’s get going,” Sherlock declared. The consulting detective spun around with her tan trench coat swishing in the air from the force. They followed her lead for departing to the shrine. Wato cannot wait for the case to conclude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	16. Chapter 16

Being at the shrine at night had a creepy vibe. Not a soul or light in sight. It reminded her of horror stories that Westerners were fond of during this month. She slightly shivered and dug her hands further in her coat pockets. The temperature was chilly and the atmosphere was chilling. Wato and the Wakasugis followed the consulting detective to a sideway path, the foliage helped them blend in the shadows.

Through the gaps between the branches and leaves, she noticed they were not far from the same massha Daiki was at a few days ago. Wato stifled a gasp when she saw a hooded figure appeared with a flashlight in hand. The person walked up to the massha, opened the door, and grabbed the tin pencil case and letter. It dawned on Wato that this was the culprit they were seeking!

She saw another silhouette drawing closer to the suspect. “Yuuki Kaito, I want to talk to you about Wakasugi Wakana,” the other called out. It was a familiar male voice. 

Yuuki Kaito froze in place when his name was called. At an instant, the lights flashed on, revealing Inspector Reimon Gentaro, Sergeant Shibata, and the Investigation Department Section 1 team. There was panic in Yuuki’s eyes due to the sight of officers surrounding the vicinity. Since it was a lost battle, the perpetrator opted to flee.

“Stop!” another officer cried out. Shibata and his colleagues quickly intercepted him and held him in place.

“Let me go! I haven’t done anything!” Yuuki screamed as he struggled against his restraints.

“Why would you run if you haven’t done anything?” the inspector asked, clearly not buying his excuses.

Following Sherlock’s lead, Wato and the Wakasugis walked out and joined the officers. Sakura widened her eyes when she saw Yuuki. She quickly averted her gaze and fell a step behind her husband. Ryota, meanwhile, had a look of confusion. He never met the theatre actor before.

“What’s going on here? Why would a stranger try to kill Wakana?” the young father demanded angrily.

“I believe you know the reason why.” Sherlock tilted her head at Sakura. “He was your best friend Kariya Misuzu’s fiancé. He blames you for the accident that killed her. A month ago, he happened to see you and your family, at the Olfram hero show.” Sakura refused to lift her head up.

“You mean…?” Wato trailed off. Horrifying realization slowly came to light.

“Yes.” The freelancer walked to the subdued Yuuki. “He was dressed as Olfram. He was wearing a mask, so you couldn’t see him, but he could still see you. Happily married, on a fun outing with your family.”

“I checked. You were dressed as Olfram on that photo day at the store,” Shibata added.

“But you were suddenly sick and left early. You followed the family home,” Reimon continued.

The woman propped her arm on Yuuki’s left shoulder. “You decided to take you revenge on the baby. So she’d experience the pain of losing a loved one,” she continued. Then she left the culprit and reached down to the metal pencil case he dropped. ”Wakasugi Daiki took Olfram’s syringe and injected the baby, but it contained poison, not medicine.” She popped the case open, taking out the syringe inside, it was full of new toxin. “A type an employee at a gardening store could get.”

The loaded syringe was dropped back in the case and snapped shut. The consulting detective reached down to grab the backpack. She marched to Reimon and offered it to him. The inspector initially looked confused, but Sherlock’s terrifying happy expression and nod gave him an impression he should take it. He gingerly received the items.

“You killed Misuzu! You forgot her and move on. I can’t forgive you!” the culprit snarled at Sakura. The young mother recoiled from the accusations. Wato had to do something; she could not let his hurtful words haunt Ryota’s wife for the rest of her life. Sakura already suffered so much.

Wato stepped in front of her, blocking Sakura from the glares. “Sakura-san never forgot Misuzu-san,” she calmly asserted.

Yuuki clearly did not like the refutation and retaliated aggressively. “Of course she did. How could she get married otherwise?”

His brusque voice did not phased her. Wato felt a familiar sense of calmness; she quickly adapted a soothing tone. “She visits Misuzu-san’s grave every month.” 

“That’s just to make herself feel better.” He tried to aggressively break free; the officers reinforced their hold on him. “Then she goes back to her happy marriage!”

Wato took another step towards Yuuki. “But you weren’t broken either!” she insisted. “You kept going with a grieving heart. She’s gone, but you’re still with the theatre group. Even though she’s no longer there.” She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. Time to lay down the hammer. “You know how hard it is.”

That stunned everyone to silence, especially for Yuuki. The grudge he fostered for four years evaporated in minutes during her speech. He looked exhausted against the struggle with a team of officers holding him back. There was no will in him to fight.

“Shibata,” Inspector Reimon called out.

The sergeant nodded his head. “Okay, let’s go.” He and the officers turned around and walked off.

For Wato, she was trying to catch her breath. That was the first to conduct an outburst like that. She did not even do that when she argued with her parents about her volunteer mission. Wato willed her body to not show any indication of shaking. Although, that did not stop the pounding beat of her heart. The reason was Sherlock.

The consulting detective stared from Wato’s left side. It was unnerving and intense, just like the first gaze she felt at Hotel New Kamata. The woman wordlessly left Reimon’s side and stood behind her. Wato glanced briefly over, wondering why.

***

Wato did not expect the wrap up for investigation would take so long. The freelancer right behind her was pulled away to talk with Inspector Reimon. Ryota and Sakura, on the other hand, had to give their statements to an assistant inspector. That left Wato by herself. She was tired, cold, and would love nothing more than to go home. It seemed impolite to leave. She had no idea if the police actually needed her statement. Unsure what to do, Wato opted to stand in place.

She had the perfect script for Daiki’s letter in her mind; it had to quickly write or type it down so she would not forget. Wato transcribed her script into the note application on her mobile device. Satisfied by what she wrote, Wato tucked her phone into the purse. She noticed the sergeant walking up to her. She smiled at seeing another face; it had been several weeks since she last saw him. “Shibata-san! Good to see you again!”

The sergeant returned the gesture. “It’s good to see you too. I’m surprised to see you here. Are you involved with the case?” It was a long story-that seemed to be case with any involvement regarding the freelancer. Wato asked if Shibata was going to take her statement for the police report. For a second, it seemed like the thought did not occur with the sergeant. Ultimately, he decided to take notes for his report. Wato immediately cooperated with Shibata, giving her account about the case.

Shibata was great at being patient. He hardly interrupted her nor made snide commentary. He kept his questions minimal, mostly for elaboration on some of the details like curare. By the time they were done, they had a small audience. The Wakasugis, Inspector Reimon, and the woman were waiting for them. The bespectacled man smiled and commented it had been a while since he last saw her (on a case no less). Socializing with the inspector was short, he and his subordinate needed to return to the precinct to process Yuuki’s paperwork. At a sudden moment, she recalled Gallery Gelder flyers. Four handouts were passed out: one for Reimon, Shibata, the Wakasugis, and Sherlock. She was not please to give one to the consulting detective, Wato was quite sure it would be rip into pieces in front of her. So far, nothing happened. The freelancer studied at the paper while Wato explained the gallery’s event. “It would mean a lot to me if this was shared,” she concluded.

Everyone sans the woman enthusiastically agreed to help Wato. Later, the inspector and sergeant bid farewell to everyone. “Sherlock-san, thank you so much for your help,” her brother spoke up. “When should we arrange a day for payment?” Huh, that was a first. It was the first time she realized this consulting service was a business transaction. Given the freelancer’s terrible demeanor, Wato hoped Ryota would not be unfairly charged.

The consulting detective remained silent, Wato was unsure if she actually heard him. Suddenly, the paper was crumpled in the woman’s hand. Wato watched the poor handout being strongly crushed. It was so disheartening and insulting! Sherlock could have the decency to recycle the paper when Wato was not around. After thoroughly squeezing the flyer into a ball, the freelancer finally replied. “Tomorrow would work; we can schedule it for late morning.” Her brother easily accepted the proposal. Satisfied by the arrangement, the freelancer turned her heel and departed from the shrine.

Wato sighed in relief, feeling glad the stifling tension was gone. Since the consulting detective was planning to visit tomorrow, she divulged her own plans about handing a letter to Daiki. Ryota and Sakura were touched by her sincerity and graciously invited her. Then, she recalled her conversation with Akiko and informed the parents about a potential playdate with the Mizuno family. Again, the Wakasugis were interested. She was pleased by the results and intended to inform Akiko before sharing her friend's number with Ryota.

Finally, Wato said her goodbyes and caught the last subway heading for Setagaya.

***

There was a noticeable difference with the Wakasugi family next the morning. Shizue was courteous to Wato (she gathered that her brother explained they were childhood buddies back in Sapporo). The grandmother profusely thanked her for helping Daiki. Wato merely smiled; all she wanted to do was preserve Ryota’s happiness. That care for her brother soon transferred to the rest of the family. She truly wanted them to stay together and share many loving moments.

The Wakasugi matriarch escorted her to the family room. Ryota, Sakura, Daiki, Wakana, and Sherlock were there. It seemed like they were waiting for her. Her eyes softened at Wakana sleeping in her father’s protective arms. The family sat around the kotatsu while the consulting detective opted to stand. Wato also chose to stand; though, she was closer to her brother.

The woman crouched down and forcibly turned the little boy around.  (What a horrible lady!) “Your mother protected you. She didn’t want you to be the bad guy,” she stated. Ryota’s son remained unfazed; Wato knew the freelancer’s direct approach would never work on a child. Sherlock stood up and leaned against the shoji.

Now, it was her turn. She stepped closer to the kotatsu and kneeled. “Olfram asked me to give you a letter,” she said, fishing out the letter from her tote bag. Wato placed it on the table. The young boy immediately perked up. He reached over and grabbed it.

Sakura gave a brief smile at Wato before she looked at her son opening the letter. The mother moved closer. “What does it say?”

“Hi Daiki-kun,” he began. “Your mother loves you very much. She even lied to protect you. Now it’s your turn to protect her. Bye!”

Wato watched anxiously as Daiki was reading, she did a series binge to understand the Olfram character (she was thankful that Akiko was understanding and Airi was accommodating). She also hoped that Olfram’s signature looked realistic; Wato had to reassure herself that she was not doing a forgery signature. This was a personal letter of encouragement directed to the little boy.

“Okay, Mom! Now I’m going to protect you!” Daiki happily announced.

“Thank you!” Sakura cried out. She patted her son’s head and reached over to embrace him.

“Don’t,” he said, halting heartfelt warmth. 

Sakura retracted her arms, looking confused. “What?”

“I’m protecting you, so I’ll do the hugging!” he declared and reached over to hug.

“Thank you, Daiki,” she repeated.

“Mom,” Daiki softly whispered, over and over again.

Wato first glanced at Ryota. There was a soft expression in his eyes. She could imagine the relief he must have felt to have his family together again. He really deserved it, after weeks of this family curse mystery. Wato wished nothing more, but a lifetime of happiness for the Wakasugi family.

Then Wato looked up at Sherlock. For some reason, there was a strange look in her eyes as she gazed at the mother and son. She was concentrating, but it did not have the same weight as she scrutinized for cases. What could be the reason behind it?

Wato subtly shook her head. It was best to not get carried away. She already resolved to increase the distance between them. For some reason, seeing the consulting detective's guard down like that made her want to act mischievous. She knew exactly what to say as she quietly got up and creeped up to the freelancer.

“So do you like kids now?” Wato whispered in her ear. She did not missed Sherlock flinching.

“Hate them,” the woman retorted. Without a word of farewell, the consulting detective slipped out of the family room. It should have not surprised Wato that the freelancer’s rudeness had not lost its sharpness.

***

Since Sherlock was gone, Wato rejoined the family. Ryota asked if she wanted to hold his daughter. She enthusiastically accepted and cradled the precious child. Holding an infant brought back happy memories at the hospital. It was fascinating to hold a new life in her hands.

Wato ended up staying for lunch. She gave an update about the playdate with the Mizunos. Akiko texted her consent to allow Wato share her phone number with Ryota. Around dessert, Ryota gifted her a box of premium Kanbei’s Terrine au chocolat. She attempted to protest the extreme generosity, this confectionery was not cheap! Ryota and Sakura refuted her; it was their way of saying thank you for everything she done for their family. After the meal, she decided to get going; there was an evening shift she had to do for Gallery Gelder.

Before she actually left the manor, there was a nagging thought. Wato asked about her brother’s impression of Sherlock. Ryota was sensible enough to not ask why. He immediately complied with the request. To him, Sherlock was eccentric, slightly ill-mannered, astute, and very proud. “Her pride doesn’t really offend me,” he revealed. “She has a great work ethic and track record of her investigations; her cases ranged from government officials to the yakuza. If anything, she has the right to be proud.”

Wato looked at her brother with confusion. How did he know that about her? There was no website or social media account that documented the consulting detective’s sleuthing exploits. Ryota chuckled at her confusion. “I initially had reservations as well. When I called, the lady I talked to kindly explained everything to me.”

Wait, what? “It was not Sherlock you were talking to when you called?” That freelancer made it sound like she personally received his call.

He shook his head. “It was someone else. I notice Sherlock-san speaks with a lower register; that person did not have that. Perhaps it was her secretary or something like that.”

Right now, everything sounded incredulous to her. It was starting to make her head hurt. She needed to return to her apartment, lie down, and rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryota's ending speech is adapted from Charlotte Lucas, chapter five.
> 
> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	17. Chapter 17

Thursday afternoon proved to be a free day for all parties. While it was a simple playdate for the two families, Wato was invited to come along. As the liaison between the Mizunos and Wakasugis, there was nothing strange about the request. She planned to use her Thursday to run errands, but she knew her presence would smooth out unfamiliarity and shyness between the parents. Wato looked forward to seeing Airi again and a beaming smile on Daiki’s face. This playdate would be beneficial for both children and adults.

The park was unusually crowded today with small children and moms. It was typical for kids to play around before being shepherd back for homework, but the school day ended an hour ago. The park should have been emptier by now. Wato could sensed something exciting was happening up ahead. Too bad she had a short stature that prevented her from seeing beyond the towers of children sitting on their mom’s shoulders. She was beckoned away from the crowd when Akiko called out her name. Her friend had a unique voice and raising it made her distinct from the murmurs. To her surprise, the three members of the Mizuno family were present. Wato supposed it was either Dr. Mizuno’s true day off or a request for a sick day. It was very sweet of him to make time for his kid.

As usual, Akiko’s child ran into her arms and engulfed Wato in a great hug. Airi’s affections never ceased to amaze her. It was clear that she was an important aunt in the child’s life. Wato resolved to treasure every moment they spent together and always be there whenever the girl needed her the most. The Mizuno daughter clung to her waist as Wato walked over to the adults. They greeted enthusiastically and smiled at their closeness between aunt and child. Wat asked if there was something special happening at the park. Dr. Mizuno quickly spoke up, cutting off his wife. “There’s a special Olfram fan meeting,” he explained. “They will also be doing a live music video filming for the opening theme. The idol group that sang the opening will also be here.” Wato was certain that he took a sick day just to be here. She supposed that being a tokusatsu fan kept him young at heart.

“Are you also a fan of this group?” she asked innocently. Her mentor discreetly pointed to this wife. Akiko was facing away from them, holding a fan (that had the idol group’s name) in front of her face to hide the blush she was sporting. Wato smiled; she had no right to judge anyone’s musical interest.

“Anyway,” the Mizuno matriarch spoke up, effectively changing topics. “Have you seen your friend and his family, Tachibana-san?” Wato denied and pulled out her phone to text Ryota. Her brother responded that they just barely made it to the park. Since he was not far from Wato and the Mizunos, she gave him their location. Minutes later, the Wakasugis arrived. The parents were cordial to each other while the children were shy. Airi tightened her hold on Wato while Daiki hid behind Sakura. Akiko, Dr. Mizuno, and Ryota encouraged their child to say hello while Wato and Sakura gently pried off the two kids.

The little boy and girl murmured hello and remained silent until Airi noticed the Olfram printed tee Daiki was wearing. Talking about the character was the ice breaker the kids needed. They were soon off in their own world, conversing about the masked superhero. The adults were left to their own devices of getting to know each other.

The attention was soon redirected thanks to booming loud speakers. The organizer thanked everyone for coming and informed the agenda to the crowd. Daiki and Airi wanted to move closer to the spectacle. The five adults followed the children. The closer they got to the stage, the density was greater and them music was louder. Her mentor and the kids cheered when Olfram appeared and waved hello to the fans. Wato could not help but grin at their enthusiasm.

After the character said his greetings, there was a new roar of cheering for the idol group that walked on stage. She chuckled at Akiko acting like a fangirl. She loved the infectious good mood with the fans singing along. Wato opted to clap to the beat as she was unfamiliar with the song. During the bridge, the masked superhero and some of his enemies appeared on stage for a choreographed fight. That garnered cheer from the young audience (and Dr. Mizuno). The performance concluded with a huge boom from the speakers followed by confetti and streamers shooting out from the stage.

Everyone but one shouted in joy.

Wato remained frozen as her eyes glazed over from the auditory stimuli. She could no longer see the grassy park. It was replaced by rubble and blood. There were agonizing screams with burning flesh and smoke permeating the air. Wato’s nose twitched as she was mentally transported back to the presence. Was something burning? Or was it someone smoking? Regardless, dread welled in her stomach; she felt sick. She needed to leave.

Wato turned around quietly slipped out from the sea of people. Her petite legs walked fast as they could to carry her out of the crowd, to move her to safety. She wandered around the streets until she found another park to rest at. This one was smaller than the previous location, but it provided the silence she needed. Every step she took to walk away lessened the terrifying grip of the flashback. It upset her that this happened again. After all, she was fine until this month. What made October so significant that reduced her into such state of weakness?

She had no answer for that question. All she knew was something was wrong with her.

***

Shame welled up in her tiny frame as she got ready. Each step she took to Dr. Irikawa’s office corresponded to the surge of disgrace in her heart. The commute was unbearable as Wato could not focused on getting off at the right station and walking down the streets to the counseling office. There were times that she almost ran into something or someone. Her alertness was drowned out by the rapid beating of her heart. Wato struggled to keep her breathing even, but it was no use. Every time she tried to calm herself, her mind raced through possible and disastrous scenarios with her counselor.

How could she tell the therapist about the strange phenomenon she experienced twice? Each episode made her recall the terror she felt back in Aleppo. Wato was not ignorant that mental health in jeopardy was equally bad as physical ailments. She also knew that addressing these concerns early enough lead to faster and greater chance of recovery. However, Wato was aware of the stigma attached to mental health. Her episodes would be seen as a reflection of her weak character. She could not afford that change in perception. It would destroy the persona she crafted for family, friends, and colleagues.

From a long term perspective, this would negatively affect her employment pursuits. She knew that part time jobs would only cover so much for bills and daily expenses. Eventually, she would have to find a more permanent and stable job with better pay. Wato shuddered at the thought of facing that reality in the future.

The time for stalling came to an end. She was already at the front of a medical building complex that housed Dr. Irikawa's practice. The urge to flee was strong, but her commitment to an appointment was stronger. Wato deeply inhaled then exhaled. She ignored her thunderous heartbeat and marched right in.

The receptionist did not bat an eye as Wato stuttered a hello greeting and fumbled with a pen as she signed in. She had to admit that the receptionist had an excellent poker face to mask potential internal judgement. The waiting room had a small essential diffuser tucked into the corner. From her past visits, the little machine ran for fifteen minutes every hour. A citrus scent permeated the space. Inhaling the fragrance set her mind at ease. It did not completely reduced her uneasiness, but it did lowered those levels to the point she could be articulate with her therapist.

“Tachibana-san?”

Wato looked up. Dr. Irikawa was standing at the hallway that connected the waiting room and office where they talked privately. As always, there was a fresh cup of chamomile tea waiting for her. The two took their seats. The counselor waited patiently as Wato blew on the cup and took a small sip. When she placed the cup down, Dr. Irikawa asked how was she doing.

***

Wato had to admit, she did not accurately recalled how their conversation played out. She did not know the apprehension she felt gave way to articulating her experiences and feelings. She started with her involvement in the case of Dr. Watanuki’s disappearance. At some point of her narration, Wato felt she was probably confusing her therapist, but Dr. Irikawa never interrupted once. Perhaps she was better at narrating than she thought she was. Her skillful way with words lead from one case to another. Before she knew it, Wato was concluding her peculiar events with the fireworks and the tokusatsu fan meeting.

Wato took a huge breath when she concluded. Talking made her mouth dry. She brought the lukewarm tea to her lips. Wato did not dare to look at her therapist.

“From your accounts, have you experienced something like this in real life?”

Wato slowly nodded her head. It was six months ago, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. The linear concept of time did not exist in Aleppo. She wondered if Yuma’s cruelty towards the late Morthon Pharmacy researcher played a role as a catalyst. It seemed strange as the two incidents were related to loud noises and screaming. Just like that time of children wailing when a huge explosion went off nearby. She squeezed her eyes shut and slightly shook her head.

No, do _not_ think about it.

Erase the stench of blood and smoke.

“Tachibana-san, you are experiencing PTSD.”

Wato blinked her eyes opened and stared at Dr. Irikawa. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? How was that possible?

She must have said that out loud because the counselor launched into a deeper explanation on the condition.

“PTSD occurs when a person experiences or witnesses a harrowing incident that involves a severe wound, a threat of a severe wound, or death,” Dr. Irikawa slowly explained. Wato inwardly flinched at the brief definition. The phantom pain radiated throughout her backside.

“Are you all right for me to continue?” she inquired. Wato met her therapist’s gaze and nodded.

“PTSD is not limited to combat zones or natural disasters; it can occur in physical or sexual assault. Moreover, hearing about a trauma inflicted on someone close can even spark PTSD symptoms.”

Wato diverted her gaze and looked down. How disturbing that she could relate to each criteria. She really did need help. A few minutes passed by in silence.

It finally occurred to her that Dr. Irikawa was waiting for her permission to continue.

“I’m okay, sensei,” Wato said, firmly locking eyes with the bespectacled lady. “I’m ready to continue again. I’m ready to hear about the symptoms.” The therapist studied her for a moment before she launched into another discussion.

Wato mentally winced as she checked off the ones she experienced in the past few weeks. It seemed strange to her that it happened now in Tokyo as opposed to a couple of months back in Aleppo. An ugly though formed in her mind. Was it possible? She mustered the courage to find out. “Sensei, is delayed PTSD an actual thing?”

Dr. Irikawa betrayed no facial reaction to the startling realization. “Yes, it does exist. It means that there were not enough symptoms evident to be formerly diagnosed,” the therapist confirmed. That encouraged Wato to elaborate on her musing without detailed references to those incidents back in Syria. She agreed with Irikawa that she was one of the few that truly had delayed PTSD.

There was one question she had: “Will I continue to have flashbacks?”

The counselor responded by talking about treatments. She listened carefully about the different treatments for PTSD and the one that would be applicable for her. As a medical professional, Wato easily followed along. There was no doubt that it would be long and difficult to recall those moments in order to overcome them. She knew in her heart that the gravity of effectiveness was based on her desire to recover.

She truly wanted to recover. After all, she resolved to live a new life in Tokyo. She was determined to make that happen.

After the therapist outlined Wato’s treatment, there was one final inquiry that was bugging her. “Sensei, are you mad at me for not telling you this sooner?” The thought of another adult disappointed with her rocked her badly to the core.

Dr. Irikawa shook her head. “On the contrary, I’m proud of you. It must have been difficult for you to experience and make the first move for recovery. Thank you for sharing and let’s do our best for the next few weeks, okay?”

Wato’s cheeks started to hurt from matching the therapist’s smile.

***

It was inevitable that the opening night for the art show was here. Gallery Gelder was expected to receive more guests that would surely surpass the previous opening nights. Every curator was working to ensure the event would go smoothly.

Wato was dressed in black clothing, a loose guideline of attire employees were expected to wear. Her gentle disposition made her the greeter at the front entrance. Every visitor received a bright smile, a warm welcome, and a brochure for the exhibition. The excitement from the public enhanced the smile on her face. It was her first time attending such event. Plus, it attracted interesting characters of artists and art enthusiasts.

As a routine task, Wato did not pay attention to the identity of the guests. That only stopped when she heard a familiar voice calling out her last name. She looked up to see Shibata, dressed in his usual attire, sans the tie. Wato warmly greeted him and thanked him for coming. She was not concern about whether her friends or colleagues would attend. Yet, seeing the sergeant made her feel incredibly better.

“Reimon-san wanted to come,” he explained, “but a meeting with the senior investigators and superiors ran over time. He apologizes for not being able to attend and gives his regards.” The inspector’s sincerity made her heart feel ten times fuller. He truly was a good man. Shibata was incredibly lucky to have him as a supervisor and she was fortunate to know a good acquaintance in Tokyo. She wished Shibata to enjoy himself with the art exhibition. He, in turn, proposed another outing; it had been a couple of weeks since they last hung out. Wato instantly agreed.

Her time with the sergeant was brief, but that interaction was incredibly refreshing and welcoming. After all, she had been limiting contact with the Mizunos and Wakasugis after ditching them at that fan meeting on Thursday. She still felt bad for her actions, but she could not bring herself to reach out and apologize. Even though she was able to open up to her colleagues and counselor, she still clammed up to the folks important to her.

All personal thoughts soon vanished as she resumed her task. This was going to be a lively and fast work shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


	18. Chapter 18

After receiving visitors, her next task was to monitor the artworks. She was assigned to watch over the sculptures and installation pieces. The task was simple: make sure that no one got close to the art. Wato kept a small smile on her face whenever a guest looked in her direction. Her grin diffused the awkwardness. A blink later, the other person turned the away.

So far it had been manageable. Majority of the public were adults, there was no horse playing or mischief acts from her watchful eye. Besides Shibata, she did not even see a familiar face under her surveillance. Again, it was expected since her library coworkers were at their other part time jobs and her friends were parents. Speaking of parents, she knew she could not ignore them forever. She was quite close to the Mizunos and now the Wakasugis. They were her family in Tokyo. She could not sever that bond. Not again, not like her immediate family back in her hometown. Wato resolved to maintain emotional distance from Sapporo. She would carve a new life in the metropolitan.

“Tachibana-san?”

Wato flinched when her surname was uttered. She was so lost in thought, she momentarily forgot she was working! She turned her head at the direction of the voice. Aside her was Moriya!

She had not heard from him after his dark outburst at Lattest Omotesando. His demeanor radiated so much anger that Wato backed off. It scared her a little and her instinct was to refrain texting. It was beyond her control and inevitable to be connected to that woman. The only factor she could control was her contact with anyone that had a negative visceral reaction to the name Sherlock. It was for their own protection and sanity.

For the past few weeks, the war photographer also did not contact her. It seemed like he needed time to cool off. Wato had not seen him during her shifts prior to opening night. The chance of running into him were high for tonight. She never expected him to walk up to her!

“Moriya-san, good evening,” she greeted before turning her eye back to the crowd.

“Good evening to you as well.” His voice trailed off. Even he sounded unsure. This was completely different from their date. “I want to apologize to you for my unruly behavior the other day.”

Huh?

“It was completely uncalled for and unfair to you. My personal history with that woman had nothing to do with you.”

So she was right! There was a connection between them. Wato dared not to speculate. It was clearly an ugly conflict.

“In light of this, the least I could do is to explain my frosty relationship with Sherlock. May I have a moment of your time?”

Wato was stunned. There was the gentleman behavior she accustomed to. She did not expect him to freely share his past with her. She believed in respecting privacy, but the lure of unlocking the woman’s character was tantalizing. Wato’s connection with the consulting detective was a steel chain. The consulting detective's personality was a mystery she initially had little interest to unravel. With the universe compelling them together, however, she might as well commit to it.

“Of course,” she responded. “Text you later for a time and date?”

“Yeah, I still want to take you to the Syrian restaurant in Minato. They have really good food.”

Wato smiled. “I look forward to it.”

Moriya took his leave and she resumed her curator duties. Opening night ended on a good note.

***

Wato quickly shelved the books. It was a simple and mindless task thanks to organizing her cart before heading out. The repetition of the task enabled her to create her own rhythm. There was hardly a soul in the library on this Friday morning. Hence she jolted when she saw Akiko leaning against the shelf, watching her.

“Tachibana-san,” she called out. It was not loud, but it carried the same tone of being summoned for a lecture. The powers of being a mom, she was powerless against it.

Wato set the cart to the side and dutifully waked over. The day finally came. It was time to face the music. “Akiko-san, good morning.”

Airi's mom nodded in acknowledgement. “When is your lunch break?”

“In three hours,” Wato replied. That was so like Akiko to hold a meeting over food.

“I see,” her friend commented. “We have lunch plans today, Tachibana-san. I shall see you in three hours.”

Wato nodded her head in acceptance. Her attendance was mandatory. “I will see you then.” The mom hummed in approval and turned her heel. Wato returned to her cart and shelved more books. She was not surprised to see her friend sitting at a table, flipping through a magazine and listening to music to pass the time. Akiko had no intention of letting Wato escape. She gulped. There were only three hours to mentally prepare herself for lunch.

***

At the start of lunch break, she approached Akiko’s table with lunch in her hands. Her friend glanced upwards. She closed her magazine and returned it to the rack. She removed her ear phones and tucked it and phone back in her purse. Finally she stood up, pushed in the chair, and walked to Wato.

“Shall we get going, Tachibana-san?” she smiled at Wato. Wato swore she saw a hint of deviousness in her friend’s eyes.

Please have mercy, Akiko.

She dutifully followed her friend out of the library. They walked into a parking lot. Akiko unlocked her vehicle and Wato took her spot in the passenger’s side. As her friend drove off, Wato hoped they were not going too far. She had an afternoon shift to make up the hours she missed for Gallery Gelder.

The car pulled into an empty lot. It was another park. The only distinguishing feature was the observation deck that looked out Tokyo Bay. She and Akiko sat on the bench, getting a closer look of the bay. Wato could hear the waves lapping, feel the sea breeze, and smell the salty stench.

“I discovered this place when I was pregnant with Airi,” her friend began. “Being near the bay calmed us down. I consider this park as my safe place to unwind. It helped me immensely after giving birth and filing a divorce.”

Wato widened her eyes. This was the first time Akiko freely talked about it. The divorce was a sore topic for her to reminisce. For being an unpleasant subject to talk about, it must be something serious.

“Even though this place became my refuge, commuting here became a habit. It had a negative impact on my family that looked after Airi when I visited the police and divorce lawyers. My alone time soon became an isolation tactic. I distanced myself from others that cared about me and my daughter that needed me the most.”

Wato was stunned by that revelation. She knew it was tough being a new mom and undergoing a divorce was taxing. She had no idea how rough it was for Akiko.

“It took me and my family so long to realize I had psychological trauma from that man. It affected my behavior so much. Had they not intervene, well I wouldn’t be the woman sitting here today.” Her friend shook her head at the alternate reality thought. Then she glanced at Wato, who was barely eating her meal.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m mentioning this, right?”

Wato slowly nodded her head.

“You’re suffering from your trauma, aren’t you?”

She jumped in her seat. Shocked was written over her face. “How did you know?” she squeaked.

“Your vanishing act did not go unnoticed,” Akiko retorted. “I saw how you reacted to the loud noise at the fan meeting and how you turned away.”

There was nothing she could do to defend herself.

“I’m not going to pretend that I understand the hardships you faced abroad. Nor I won’t trivialize your struggle,” her friend sighed. “I ask for you to always remember we’re here for you. You don’t have to be alone on this journey of recovery. We’re always thinking about your wellbeing. The Wakasugis are also supporting you.”

Ryota and Sakura? It should not have been a surprise due to her brother’s past. He was also perceptive since boyhood. It was peculiar how things turned out.

“You know, Ryota-san and I knew each other from before. It’s a small world.”

Wato's curiosity piqued. “How so?” It was a small world, indeed.

“We went to Spousal Support Anonymous seven years ago. I remembered there was a withdrawn guy that talked about how he recently got married in Sendai. He lost his entire family in March, he cried so much just thinking about them.”

Wato herself felt like crying, but she resolved to remain composed. After all, Ryota had a new family to return to. He was in much better place, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“He was a regular attendant in the next two years. Halfway through 2013, he mentioned he remarried. Then his attendance gradually decreased and eventually he stopped coming. Everyone figured he was much happier now with his new wife and children. I’m so glad that theory was confirmed when I met him again at the park.”

She felt lighter as the worries in her heart were relieved. There was no need to hide it anymore. Not when she had a genuine support group. She and Akiko grew closer.

***

Wato returned to work in record time. Before she left, Akiko invited her to spend the upcoming holidays with the family. It dawned on Wato that October was finally coming to a close. Halloween was coming soon. Then it will be November. The next month also had its share of holidays. The first one was Culture Day on the 3rd. Couple of weeks later, people would be observing Shichigoson and Labor Thanksgiving. As always, Wato thanked her for the invite. She had to check her calendar for conflicting shifts. Plus, she had to coordinate outings with Shibata and Moriya respectively.

The remaining afternoon shift was busy with students studying. The library definitely felt more crowded and the noise level was louder. However, it was manageable. She made a mental note to record this in her counseling journal. Luckily her hours quickly passed. In a blink of an eye, Wato was done for the day and was set to leave.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming texton her commute back to Setagaya. She fished out her mobile device; the sender was Shibata. Wato just opened the message when another one came in. It was from Akiko. She chose to respond to the sergeant's text first. His message was regarding the venue. There was a nabe shop doing a promotion. Shibata asked if she was okay with the meal choice. She confirmed that she was fine with the food. Then Shibata replied back with a date and time. A quick check at her online scheduled informed her that she was free from that time block and day. The sergeant wrote back saying he would see her then. Communication ceased after that.

The second message made Wato widened her eyes. There was another invitation Akiko forgot to mention during the lunch break. According to her friend, Dr. Mizuno’s cousin was getting married next Saturday. The wedding hall would at Le Mariage Blanc. That was a bombshell. First was getting invited to a wedding, then learning the ceremony would take place at the most popular (and famous) venue in Shibuya!

She felt happy for her mentor’s cousin. Marriage was a landmark in life. She loved the idea of two people coming together, choosing to be bound by love, andsharing the joys and sorrows of life. Weddings were so sacred and precious. These moments should be celebrated by the family and friends of the engaged couple. Someone with distant relation like herself would not have a reason to attend the ceremony.

Wato texted her concerns to Akiko. Her friend, on the other hand, dismissed them. She revealed that the guests were all comprised of her husband’s relatives. Her in-laws loved her and Airi. The groom, Dr. Mizuno’s cousin, disliked Akiko. It was simply because she was merely a pharmaceutical researcher. To him, she was below her husband’s league because she did not have a medical license.

Wato admired her friend’s inner strength. Akiko refused to let someone’s opinion to make her feel inferior. Yet she wondered what was the purpose of inviting her. Akiko revealed the straightforward answer: to annoy the groom. At the reception, Airi would be playing with her cousins while Dr. Mizuno would be chatting with other relatives. By that logic, her friend would be by herself and she needed someone to keep her company. Wato hardly found this reasoning convincing, but once Akiko mentioned there will be a buffet catered by one of the top restaurants in Tokyo, she was completely sold on that idea.

***

She and the sergeant were sitting at a two person table, waiting for a server to come and take their orders. Wato was excited, the weather gotten remarkably chillier, eating nabe was perfect to keep her body warm.

“Tachibana-san, any exciting plans for next week?” Shibata asked after concluding his story.

“I’m going to a wedding,” she replied with a grin.

He widened his eyes. “Really? You’re the fourth person I know that’s attending a wedding. Everyone around me is either getting married or going to one.”

Wato giggled at his remark. That was a classic response from someone who was single. “A friend of mine is taking me to go shopping in a few days,” she continued. “I have to look nice since it will be very posh.”

“Ah, a rich person’s wedding; do you know the bride and groom?”

“I’m not familiar with either them, but the bride is model Mashima Risa and the groom is jewelry designer Saeki Kazuma. Have you heard of them?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Thanks for reading. =] I'm curious about your thoughts on the story. Reviewing is highly encourage! Don't be shy~ ^^
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to check out:  
> [Hit it Off like This](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112242/chapters/40244492)  
> [Hot Girls Make the World Go Round](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052490/chapters/34895342)  
> [I Love You like the Ocean Loves Silence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007367/chapters/34784417)  
> [Two Drifters, off to see the World ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345636)  
> =]


End file.
